


Awful Thing

by squarepeg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Ron Weasley, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Family Drama, M/M, Omega Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Soulmates, Squib Draco Malfoy, Top Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squarepeg/pseuds/squarepeg
Summary: Draco presents as an omega and is less than pleased with what his future holds.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 37
Kudos: 358





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All! Thanks for taking the time to read this. I haven't been active in the community for years, but I have a lot of free time right now and I have been really enjoying writing this story.

The thought that this situation was entirely unjust had circled, unwelcome and unresolved, in Draco Malfoy’s mind since his presentation as an omega. He was partially right. Justice is subjective and it certainly didn’t seem fair to Draco that he had presented as an omega. He hailed from a long, proud line of alpha males and beta women. He had listened while he was being tutored in Malfoy family history as a child, despite it being just as boring as it sounds. There wasn’t a single omega in either line. The only way for him to present as an omega would be if both of his parents carried the recessive trait and that wasn’t possible. He had listened. He was supposed to be safe. Omegas weren’t safe in purist families. 

He had been looking forward to his twentieth birthday, too. It was the day all wizards and witches learned of their second sex and he expected to become an alpha. Alphas are the pride and joys of their family, set to inherit riches, marry a beautiful and well suited beta witch or wizard, and lead happy, fulfilling lives. Something was finally supposed to go right in his life. It should have been easy. 

Instead, he had writhed and moaned for untold days as his body made the excruciatingly rapid transition through his second puberty while mother fretted incessantly by his side. 

His mother had taken the seizure of the Malfoy fortune and ancestral home, removal of all their magical abilities and subsequent yearlong Azkaban sentences better than her son and husband. In all fairness, the women’s side of Azkaban was notably nicer and Harry Potter had given her complete ownership of Grimmauld Place when she was released. Narcissa Malfoy had the savior of the Wizarding World in her corner. What she had lost in wealth and influence, she had gained in social standing. 

Draco and Lucius hadn’t been nearly as lucky. The men’s side of Azkaban was still rife with dementors and the guards were not too kind to former death eaters, even ones with severely lessened sentences due to the testimony of Harry Potter. Grimmauld Place had been given to Narcissa after their release under the condition that Lucius was never to live there. Lucius couldn’t bear the thought of his family living like paupers in Knockturn Alley on his account so he had gone to live with a distant cousin in a small fishing village in the Faroe Islands once he was certain they were situated. 

Even so, you would never hear Narcissa complain about her current situation in life. Perception is everything and she was still a Black and a Malfoy. She was determined to make the best of their lot. Having an omega son was only a small inconvenience in light of the last five years. She could sort this out.

Narcissa’s brand of love was shrewdly Slytherin and distinctly beta. She couldn’t negotiate her family out of the bonds they made while participating in the war, but she did her absolute best to make sure they were in the right places by the end of it. Her love, though flawed at times, was unconditional and Draco was grateful for it. 

“I think we should write to your father.” It was about the sixth time she had suggested it. She was fussing with his bedding to make it seem like his answer was inconsequential to her, so Draco knew that it mattered quite a bit. 

“I’d rather we didn’t, Mother,” Draco groaned through another cramp in his abdomen as the pain radiated down to his knees. 

“My sweet boy, if Lucius is withholding information that could help you get through this, then I have to write him.” Narcissa dabbed her son’s sweat slick brow with a cool, damp rag. "Furthermore, he is my husband and I want to write him."

“Mother. He can’t know,” Tears welled in Draco’s eyes as he begged. “You can’t tell him, please don’t tell him.”

“Darling, he is your father and he needs to know.” 

“He’ll hate me. I’m an undesirable.”

Her eyes softened minutely, “Your father could never hate you. He likely knows that it was a possibility for you to become an omega and hid it from us both, Draco. Your Grandfather Malfoy and all of your ancestors on that side were not as purist as your father. If there is any omega blood in the Malfoy line, he would have told Lucius about it.”

“Oh how assuring that he chose fanaticism even while knowing I could be stripped of my rights at twenty. How grateful I am that he chose to raise me as a deserving heir anyway! What a mighty and fatherly man, Mother.”

“Now you’re just being melodramatic and archaic, my sweet. You will have rights, just different ones from what you were expecting. And we’ve hardly been mighty since the trials.”

Draco started wheezing and clawing at his stomach. He must be growing his womb, Narcissa realized. 

“My parents weren’t altogether thrilled when the Malfoy family approached them for my hand in marriage, Draco.” She started talking slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her son with information about his family history that she had kept from him during the contentious war. “Your father himself was a suitable match, of course, he had exemplary marks in school, plenty of political influence and a sizable fortune; but, the Malfoy family wasn’t the most highly regarded amongst the Sacred Twenty Eight. There were rumors that persisted since it’s publication that your great-great-grandfather bought his way onto the list in the first place. They were more interested in avoiding inbreeding than keeping the bloodline truly pure. The relatively low esteem of the Malfoy name was what drove your father to improve it by joining the Dark Lord’s ranks.”

“Fat lot of good that did, Mother. Besides, I know all of this already. It’s why I am so very blond and,” He sighed dramatically in between convulsions. “angular. Father’s family married into many of the old Scandinavian lines to avoid intermixing too thoroughly with the British gene pool.” He repeated the bare minimum of what he remembered from lessons when he was young. 

“That isn’t quite right, Draco. The Malfoy’s married pureblooded Scandinavians occasionally, but they more commonly matched themselves with halfblooded Britons who were ambitious enough to be sorted into Slytherin House. Your paternal bloodline is nowhere near as pure as mine. It’s why there are no marriages between the Blacks and the Malfoys before I married your father. The Blacks were the most fanatical family in the wizarding world and cared very little for whether inbreeding was safe if it meant that our magical ancestry was pure. That’s why your Aunt Bella is so…peerless in her insanity.” 

Another cramp wracked Draco’s body and he was too overcome by a bout of nausea to respond to that. It was remarkable that his body was still undergoing this radical change into sexual maturity given the magic had been drained of it shortly after the war. He only wished that he had known he was grandstanding on false pretenses sooner. That would’ve spared him a lot of ill will from his own peers. He was about as pureblooded as Harry Potter, Terry Boot or Gregory Goyle. Worse off in the end, ironically enough, at least those men had presented as alphas. He might as well have a muggle last name, too. 

It wasn’t as if he was still harboring notions of superiority on any grounds. In fact, he was pleased that he wasn’t quite as pureblooded as his mother if it meant that he wouldn’t face the same mind demons as his Aunt Bella. How could he think himself superior? He was no better than a squib now and a penniless one at that. He was utterly worthless as a wizard, incapable of becoming the man that he was raised to be and lost in a world that would never again accept him. Better to stay grounded in his despair than hope for anything more than what he currently had.


	2. Chapter One

“Funny that the smubbledarts have blessed us both with the rarest sex.” Luna commented jovially as she looked over the Queen Anne’s Lace bouquet that Draco had picked from the weeds dotting the muggle roads on his evening constitutional. The weed had reminded him of gypsophila flowers and the wonderful, intoxicatingly floral scent that clung to Luna since her transformation into a fully mature omega woman. 

She had dropped by to have some lemon cake that Draco had made for her. They were relaxing against the kitchen counters as they waited for it to cool. Luna could have quickly cast a charm, but it always made Draco antsy and irritable when magic was performed in front of him. 

It had been two and a half years since Draco had presented and he had become a bit of a recluse in the interim. Omegas were bound by their own nature to obey alpha commands and directions. A solitary omega was a danger to themselves in public as they were at the mercy of any alpha’s wildest discretions. Stepping outside of heavily warded Grimmauld Place without a chaperone would surely spell disaster. 

The only way for an omega to become invulnerable to every alpha they meet is to submit fully to an alpha mate. Omegas aren’t afforded full rights in wizarding society until they are engaged in a committed relationship. The best that an omega could hope for was to find his or her mate and pledge their fealty to them; luckily, magical attraction makes it very difficult for mates to avoid each other for long. 

Only omegas have a specific mate, a person upon which their entire world revolves. Alphas and betas are free to associate themselves sexually or romantically with any alpha or beta of their own choosing. It was only the rarest sex, the weakest sex, the most obsolescent sex that was cursed to devote their entire lives to one person alone. It’s all a load of absolute bollocks, if you ask Draco. Luna thought it was romantic. 

Functioning alpha and omega couples were fairly hard to come by as most purist magical families had scorned the rarest sex for many generations, instilling the belief in their descendants that children born of omegas were less magically capable than their peers born of betas. Unfortunately for omegas, this cycle means that pureblood alphas with omega matches often ignore their fated and let their omega undergo an agonizing death from rejection. In most magical texts on the subject, this is widely regarded as the most painful magical death possible.

Mates supposedly know that they are meant to be the minute their eyes lock after their maturation. Draco would sooner be dead than lock eyes with an alpha and risk a lifelong possession or, worse and infinitely more likely, a horribly painful death. Azkaban had been hard enough. As an omega, Draco was highly discouraged from leaving his home alone. As a former death eater, Draco was barred from obtaining employment and reviled by all of proper society. No alpha, Draco believed, would ever ignore those deal breakers and accept him. He could live with that because he wasn’t sure he could handle servitude again. He would prefer to die peacefully in solitude from the natural ailments that accompany old age. 

His only hope rests with the very few families who upheld the belief that omegas were meant to be cherished for their submissive nature and domestic qualities. Unfortunately, all of those families were also blood traitors and unlikely to look upon Draco favorably. Luna had only reached out to him because she had learned that they were family and Luna was very protective of her family. 

Pandora Lovegood, Luna’s mother who died tragically young in a self-inflicted magical accident, had been born Pandora Malfoy. Pandora was disowned by the family when she presented as an omega. She was his father’s younger sister, a promising, if odd, Slytherin witch with a bright career at the Department of Mysteries ahead of her when she turned twenty. Young and alone with nowhere to turn, fate, or smuggledarts if you listen to Luna, intervened when she bumped into and matched with an equally batty Ravenclaw alpha male named Xenophilus Lovegood at the market. 

His Aunt Pandora had then given birth to his cousin Luna, Draco’s best and only friend at the moment. Luna had descended quite quickly upon him as he spiraled into a deep depression shortly after his twentieth birthday. The friendship started with odd gifts placed by his bedside on his worst days then slowly graduated to tea in the garden or walks around the London blocks surrounding his home. Draco never wanted to venture far for fear of running into an alpha who would sniff him out and claim him on the spot. Luna was certain his fears were caused by the negative wrackspurts that had been breeding on his head since his sixth year. 

Then, almost a year after his own presentation, Luna became an omega as well. She took it gracefully as she had been expecting the change all her life and was immediately courted by Rolf Scamander while working on a magical creature excursion in Bali. She said that they were happy together but Draco was skeptical of his intentions.

He even refused to entertain the idea of having Luna and Rolf over for dinner as a couple. Narcissa had an absolute fit over that and uncharacteristically chided her son for his selfish nature. She reminded him brusquely that Luna was his cousin and they had so few family members left who would associate with them. He couldn’t afford to alienate her. His mother didn't understand, she was a beta after all, that he didn't fancy himself strong enough to treat Rolf kindly when he was so unfairly jealous of the relationship that they had started. 

Luckily for him, it proved pretty hard to alienate Luna. She was the most resilient witch he knew, omega or otherwise. Despite witnessing her own mother die before her eyes at the young age of nine, she became the kindest student in Ravenclaw and blossomed further into the most whimsical and good natured adult witch Draco had ever met. When she was held captive at Malfoy Manor, though Draco now knew that her treatment could’ve been way worse if his father hadn’t extended the ancestral protection charms over her that year, he had visited her often. They brought a great deal of comfort to each other at that time. She was a real hero and real heroes deserved their happy ending. That did not mean he had to see all the love that he would never attain dangled temptingly at his own dinner table.

“It seems more like a vast conspiracy plot to me.” Draco sneered at his cousin, Luna Lovegood. He was usually pretty agreeable around her but the reminder that he was an omega had him lashing out again. 

“Oh Draco, you’ll see what an honor it is when you are mated. Rolf is bewilderingly kind and he covets me.”

“I don’t want to be coveted.” 

“The smubbledarts are never wrong when they wiggle inside your nose and determine your sex, you know.”

“They were wrong about me. I am not weak! I do not need to be coddled or cared for to get by! I am my own man.”

“Being an omega is so much more than our sexual predilections. You’ll see when you meet your mate. You’ll want to submit to your fated because they know what is best for you. The smubbledarts always choose wisely in a love match.”

“There isn’t going to be a love match for me, Luna.” Draco whined. “The chances for that died with my stint in Azkaban.”

“You are a war hero. You are the redeemed and dreamy bad boy of Slytherin house. I know plenty of Ravenclaw girls who were besotted with you in Hogwarts.”

“War heroes aren’t typically stripped of their magic and left to rot away in a decrepit house with their mother.”

“You chose to live here so your mother wouldn’t be alone. You are a good son and compassionate cousin,” Draco scoffed as Luna continued, “and anyone would be lucky to possess you.”

“Please, Luna, don’t use ‘possess’ so casually. I hate that word.”

“My father possessed my mother and she was the most contented witch I have ever known.”

“It’s an awful thing, I’ve seen it! Voldemort had two omegas living in his quarters at the Manor. They would crawl after him and obey his every command with deadened, unblinking eyes. I —Luna, I can’t — I can’t lose control of my life again.”

“Those were unmated omegas that he had snatched from the streets after their families disinherited them. They never met their fated and were abused by Voldemort because he was an unparalleled, deranged alpha. That won’t happen to you.”

“And why not?! Those omegas were just like me. They were afraid of alphas and they had every reason to be! The very first one to possess them after their presentation was the Dark Lord and he used and abused them mercilessly,” Draco said clinically as he tried to wipe the memories from his mind. “I’ve seen how omegas are treated, Luna, and I won’t be able to handle it.”

“He’s gone,” Luna grabbed Draco’s hand and held it tight. “He’s gone and the world is a new, hopeful thing. Hermione has been working as a Civil Rights Undersecretary to Minister Shacklebolt. She’s been making progress, Draco. There are ramifications for alphas who take advantage of unmatched omegas. There are protections in place for us.”

“There are protections for you,” Draco muttered as he tore his hand away. “I am a social pariah and a squib. If I left this house without my mother, I would surely be taken by an alpha with untoward intentions never to be seen or heard from again.”

“That sounds more like a fairytale than anything that might actually happen to you, Draco. That’s just not the way of the world anymore,” Luna assured him. “You’d see if you left the house more. You haven’t even been in the same room as an alpha since you turned twenty. They’re not all bad. Most alphas just admire our kind from afar. The perfect witch or wizard for you is probably pining away in some countryside bungalow.”

“Charming as that all sounds, I can’t even be near them,” Draco’s hands started shaking slightly as he reached across the counter to assess the temperature of the cake. “You know that I can’t, Luna. I’m too vulnerable. If I meet an alpha, then I would do anything they say. I haven’t built up a tolerance to their commands. I don’t even have magic to protect me. I am the most worthless and pitiful omega ever born.”

“You are not. Those are the wrackspurts filling your head with that nonsense. They’re quite persistent, I know, but you must promise me that you’ll ignore them, won’t you, Draco? I couldn’t bear it if I knew you were holed up here thinking those nasty thoughts all day long.”

Draco knew that it wasn’t the wrackspurts filling him with self hatred, even if those creatures did exist and had, in fact, colonized his hair follicles when he was a teenager, or whatever Luna was always on about, the thoughts of worthlessness were coming from his own mind.

“You could start small, maybe? I know some very tolerant alphas that would be willing to have tea with you.”

“Bollocks, Luna. There isn’t a soul in the wizarding world who would be willing to have tea with me.”

“I’m here for tea and cake, aren’t I? Some might say that that is a testament to your charm and good looks.”

“You’re loony, Lovegood, driven mad with familial obligation and a pressing need to make sure that the wrackspurts haven’t driven me to endless suicidal ideation just yet.” 

Luna was taken aback. It had been years since anyone called her loony. Besides, she was there to make sure he was maintaining his sanity not the other way around. He was her friend and her cousin. It was the very least that she could do for him. They both let the silence linger, lost in their own thoughts, as Draco determined the cake was ready for a smattering of confectioner’s sugar. He plated two slices and poured some assam tea for Luna.

“The alphas really would like to help you.”

Draco looked stricken, “You told them about me?”

“Not you specifically. I told them that I have a pureblooded cousin who is having a hard time adjusting to his new status as an omega.”

“Luna, I have been an omega for two years. I think that I am well past the adjustment period.”

“Sometimes time doesn’t make it easier. It’s okay if you still need help. These alphas will be very patient with you as they build your tolerance,” she promised. “I only want you to be happy. Will you try it? Even once?”

Draco searched his cousin’s face for any trace of insincerity. There was only love shining in her incredibly open eyes. If there had been one blessing in life since he had become an omega, it was Luna Lovegood. So if he needed to accept her help to prove himself worthy of her company, then he would do it. For Luna. 

“Okay, owl me a date and I will ready the back garden to entertain them.”

“You’ll see, Draco. This is exactly what you have been missing.” Luna smiled brilliantly.


	3. Chapter Two

Draco should have known. Luna only associated with her colleagues from creature expeditions and a select few students who hadn’t tormented her incessantly in school; Granger and Potter were at the top of that list. How could it have been anyone else? This meeting was bound to be dreadful. 

Hermione, meanwhile, attempted vainly to settle the shaky feeling in her stomach as she took in her surroundings. The interior of Grimmauld had changed very little since the war. The Malfoys clearly had very little money, considering Draco was barred from seeking employment and his mother had only recently found work as a shop assistant at Madame Malkin’s. She could hardly hold the delayed interior redecoration against them. It was just eerie to be back in the home that housed the Order of the Phoenix. It was even more odd to realize that the home was now devoid of any magic. 

“Well,” Draco said primly as they settled into their respective chairs on the veranda. “Thank you both very much for taking time out of your schedules to visit me today.”

“We were happy to do so, Draco,” Hermione assured him. “Luna has been quite worried about her cousin for some time now and when she finally mentioned that it was you, I was ready to help in any way that I can. And I was, in all honesty, interested in what you have been up to since Azkaban.” 

Draco gestured to the beautifully manicured garden. “I stay busy enough.”

“Yes, of course, you must. Luna speaks highly of you and all of your hobbies.”

“Does she?” His tone was only mildly sardonic. 

“Constantly. It’s always ‘My cousin this, my cousin that’ with Luna these days. It’d be tiring to hear her blather on so much about you if the life of her reclusive and handsome omega relative hadn’t seemed so mysterious and Victorian.”

“I’d hardly call my solitude entertaining.” Draco worried his bottom lip in his teeth. He didn’t want to offend Hermione, but he also would not stand being patronized in his own home. It was a delicate line to draw when he owed life debts to the company in question. 

“No, that’s not quite the right word. It’s more that the way in which you and your mother live here is fascinating. It’s like I stepped into an late Victorian London without time travelling. It’s as if all of my childhood fantasies have materialized before my eyes.” She was grinning with all of her teeth in that unrestrained manner that muggleborns had an uncanny knack for.

“Well, I suppose that I find you fascinating as well. You are the first two alphas I have seen in person since I became…this way. I thought Luna was having me on when she said that there were alphas willing to meet with me.” Draco extended a small smile in her direction and finally met her gaze head on. 

It was very clear to Hermione that Draco was not her fated mate as she maintained eye contact with him; however, it surprised her that she felt a bit disappointed by the knowledge. Draco’s transition had softened the angles of his face, permanently mussed his ice blonde hair and plumped his lips perfectly. He was effeminately handsome. Very few alphas have a destined omega, most pair off with betas and live perfectly happy lives, but Hermione felt in her bones that there was an omega out there designed just for her. She would have to keep waiting.

“It must have been hard transitioning without magic. You are a very brave omega.” Hermione was pleased to see a rose flush grow hot on Draco’s cheeks. Though she had been raised in the muggle world, she was well read in alpha, beta and omega dynamics. She knew that all omegas loved to be praised. Draco was an enchanting young man preening under her gaze.

“I…thank you very much, Miss Granger.”

“Call me Hermione.”

“Hermione,” Draco responded promptly to his very first alpha command. “It was difficult but I was lucky to have my mother by my side. Even Kreacher was instrumental. It is nice to have a magical being around given that I am now a squib.”

Her expression hardened and her voice rose sharply. “I didn’t realize you still had a house elf in your employ. I hope you know that all house elves have been liberated under the Dobby Mandates I pushed through the Ministry last year. If Kreacher is still in this house without just payment, then there will be a substantial fine levied against you and your mother as well as the possibility of jail time for you both.”

Draco’s face went white and his heart started palpitating. One of the many things he had been shielding himself from were the strong self-punitive responses that his body underwent when he disappointed alphas. This was just a taste of what awaits him in the wizarding world, he reminded himself. He already disappointed so many witches and wizards during his time at Hogwarts and through his actions in the war. Most of them won’t bother with pleasantries first upon seeing him again. 

“Hermione,” Harry broke his silence, alerting them both to his presence for the first time since saying hello, to try and avoid a potentially serious confrontation between the two inherently unequal parties. “I’m sure that Malfoy knows all about that. Kreacher is probably here of his own doing. He was always gagging to serve the Black family again. Isn’t that right, Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes met Harry’s and they were both relieved to find that they were not a fated pair. Draco nodded slowly at him and spoke quietly, “Kreacher is here because he sees no life outside of Grimmauld Place to be as fulfilling as his life in it. Mother pays him out of her wages.”

“See, Hermione. Problem solved.” Harry shot her a stern look. She had the grace to look somewhat repentant. 

“I’m sorry for getting so worked up. I just get really passionate about fighting for persecuted communities.”

“That’s okay, I’m sure that you do good work for every community,” Draco worried his lip between his teeth again as he looked between the two alphas Luna sent to help him. He didn’t want to upset them but they were Potter and Granger, he was bound to get them worked up. He was a pesky nuisance to their burgeoning new world order. “Is there anything I can get for you both besides water?”

“No, Malfoy. Wouldn’t trust you not to poison us if I’m honest.”

“I have no magic and wouldn’t have a clue how to go about that the muggle way so I think you’re safe, Mr. Potter.”

“All the same.” His obstinance did little to set Draco at ease. He also did not request to be called anything less formal. The offer to get them some refreshments was genuine. He found that the omega nature he had tried to keep under a tight lock and key was overtaking him with a pressing need to pamper these two alphas regardless of their shared past. 

“Perhaps Kreacher could fetch some snacks for us. Would that be ok, Mr. Potter?” Draco really hoped that Potter would allow it. He had a feeling that the action would do a great deal to quiet the overwhelming feeling of failure that had settled in his stomach since Granger’s outburst.

“Would that be ok, Hermione?” Harry deflected to his friend. 

“Yes,” Hermione had been watching Draco carefully and knew he was strongly signaling distress. “I think that is a very good idea, Draco. You’re a good host.”

Draco keened audibly, a tight high-pitched mewl, after that compliment then cleared his throat and called out for Kreacher.

“Yes, Master Draco,” The cantankerous elf snapped as he apparated into the room. 

“Would you mind readying some snacks for myself and my guests?”

Kreacher looked at the guests in question and sneered mildly, “Kreacher would be more than happy to serve, Master Draco. Are Master Harry and Mistress Hermione staying long?”

“We should be out of here before dinner,” Harry smirked before Kreacher disapparated.

Draco was still feeling shame from his earlier instinctual omega responses so he blurted out an apology without thinking it through. “I’m sorry for that terrible noise I just made. It was unseemly of me.”

“What noise?” Asked Harry at the same exact time Hermione rushed to reassure him that keening noises were perfectly normal sounds that omegas emit when they are praised by alphas. 

“I don’t know much about omega biology,” Draco admitted. “I was raised to be an alpha and was once promised to a beta witch. This is all very foreign to me.”

“Luna mentioned that,” Hermione said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I know it can be tough to dwell on the past sometimes.”

Draco keened again. It seemed like the embarrassment was unceasing with alphas around. Unexpectedly, Potter reached out and placed a hand tentatively on his knee. It was the first time an alpha had touched him and he could feel his temperature rising as he tilted his chin to bare his neck. 

“You’re alright. Stay with me now. Luna suggested that we try to slowly assimilate you to alpha commands and reinforcements. Might as well start, I guess,” Harry smiled at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Tell me your name.”

“Draco Abraxas Malfoy.”

“Tell me your age.”

“I’ll be 23 in June.”

“Tell me your House.”

“Slytherin.”

“Not so bad, right?”

“No,” Draco conceded. “Those questions were appropriate for toddlers though. I can handle tougher ones.”

Harry smirked. “Tell me about your first kiss.”

“It was the summer between third and fourth year and Vincent was over for dinner. He asked me to go flying with him but kissed me before we even reached the broom shed.”

“Crabbe? Vincent Crabbe kissed you?”

“He was infatuated with me. It stands to reason that kissing would be on the table.”

“Crabbe was gay?”

Draco was considerably confused at this point. “Why would that matter?”

“Not that it matters, it’s just surprising is all. He was so burly and strong, even as a kid.”

Draco’s expression hardened and he struggled to maintain his composure. “I don’t know how he would have identified had he not died, but I do know that he always liked me and that I liked it when he kissed me.”

“Right, sorry, I forget about Crabbe sometimes when I am thinking of the casualties. That was insensitive of me.”

“Why don’t we just continue your inane line of commanding questioning.”

“I’ll have you know my interrogation skills are prized as an Auror.”

“Congratulations.” Draco deadpanned.

“Okay — just since you’ve been snarking me — tell me about your first sexual experience.”

Draco started breathing heavily. He really did not want to disclose that information to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, of all people. Unfortunately, his omega side was becoming quite insistent that he do so regardless of his more rational brain raging against it. 

“It was also at the broom shed with Vincent…he….we…I, um, well….”

“You know, Malfoy, from the way you’re acting, I’m starting to think you’re a virgin.”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. 

Draco teared up but didn’t lean away from Potter. 

“He pushed me up against the shed, if you must know, and then he sucked me off.”

“Did you like it?”

“I was fifteen and he gave me a blowjob. Of course I liked it. What sort of imbecile are you anyway?”

“The sort that got his first blowjob at thirteen.” Harry teased. 

“Harry! That’s disgusting.” Hermione exclaimed. 

Draco was well and truly shocked. Saint Potter? Experimenting sexually in third year? That seemed improbable. So he called Harry a liar and tried to make out if he read his mark correctly through the ensuing laughter. 

“Wish that I was lying, it sure would make Hermione feel better.”

“Honestly, I still hope that you are lying.” Hermione looked queasy yet her tone was fond.

“You don’t know what we got up to in those quidditch locker rooms.” Draco and Hermione were both spluttering as Harry continued his line of questioning. “Well, tell us the truth then, are you a virgin?”

“That is entirely inappropriate—” Hermione started to say. 

“Yes,” The answer was excruciatingly ripped from Draco’s lips as if he had been dosed with veritaserum. 

“And why is that?”

The command for truthfulness continued to course through Draco’s body, “Because I was saving myself for marriage, because I was given the dark mark at sixteen, because I was sent to prison at seventeen, because who would want to be with a squib, because Vincent died, because I became an omega, because I am worthless as a wizard, because I have nothing to offer anyone, because I am hideous and pointy, because I am undesirable,” and so it continued for many more minutes, every single reason that Draco Malfoy had never had sex spilled to two of his former school rivals. 

“That’s enough, Draco,” Hermione had always been the clever one. “You don’t have to tell us the truth anymore.”

Harry removed his hand from Draco’s thigh awkwardly. Draco’s eyes remained firmly on the ground as Kreacher reappeared with grapes and tuna sandwiches. 

“Kreacher made do with what was in the kitchen already. Kreacher had no time to go to the shop, Kreacher is so sorry Master,” Kreacher pleaded to explain the offerings. 

“It looks great, Kreacher,” said Hermione. She was wracking her brain for an idea that would relieve the tension in the air. 

“Kreacher is truly sorry. Is there anything else that Kreacher may do for you all?”

“No, thank you.” Draco whispered, his voice was shaky and it was instantly clear to his guests that he was crying. Kreacher left three very uncomfortable adults behind to sort through those emotions on their own. 

“It’s okay, Draco. You did a very good job telling us the truth. It is tough to follow orders when you’re in distress, I know how hard you tried.” Hermione was glaring at Harry as she attempted to telepathically communicate that he should also say something encouraging. 

“That was maybe too forward of me. I apologize, Malfoy. Won’t happen again.” 

His tears glistened prettily as they hung heavily on his eyelashes and made slow trails down his cheeks. He felt absolutely humiliated. Not only was he an outted virgin omega loser, now he was more emotionally unstable than moaning Myrtle too. This meeting was an unmitigated disaster for his self-esteem. Luna clearly has no idea what she’s talking about when it comes to alpha and omega dynamics, he thought. 

“It’s fine, Mr. Potter. I apologize for my outburst.”

“Don’t be sorry. That was on me, Malfoy. I should not have teased an unmated omega.”

Draco was inclined to agree with him there. Sex was a sensitive subject. Leave it to Potter to have no social propriety whatsoever. “Are you mated, Mr. Potter?”

“I’m dating Morag MacDougal. You might remember her from school? She was a Ravenclaw in our year.”

“Morag,” Draco tried his hardest to remember her but came up empty. “Yes, of course, she was brilliant. Congratulations. What about you, Hermione?”

“I haven’t dated anyone since Ron and I broke up after our presentations as alphas. I’m too focused on work to spare a thought for romance.”

“That’s too bad,” Draco said. “You are likely the most attractive woman from our graduating class.” He meant it sincerely. 

Hermione laughed openly, “We didn’t graduate. Plus, you haven’t seen anyone else in a very long time so I won’t tell the Patil twins that you said that.”

“Are there any other omegas from our year? Are they mated?”

“Omegas are fairly rare so unless someone else is hiding their status as well, I believe that it is just you, Isobel Fawley and Hannah Abbott who hold that honor. Hannah was miraculously already in a relationship with her fated alpha, Neville Longbottom, when she transitioned,” she patted Draco’s hand over the table as she spoke. The nest part was harder to say. “Isobel matched with Zacharias Smith, I don’t know if you remember him, but Smith was a pretty steadfast purist. He claimed he descended from Helga Hufflepuff herself. He…he rejected Isobel. She passed away back in November.”

Draco closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. It was hard to hear his worst fears confirmed so casually. 

“She was my partner in advanced divination,” Draco told Hermione. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He didn’t trust himself to say anything else without crying. Izy was a Slytherin, too. She was shy yet shrewdly observant of everything that was going on around her. She laughed at his jokes only when they were genuinely funny which he had always appreciated. She had approached him to be his partner in divination because she knew that he had a natural aptitude for it from watching him in the common room. He had another friend to mourn. 

“It was awful to hear of her passing. Honestly, thinking that we were past all of this hate and then seeing that on the top of the papers set me off. Goes to show that just because we won the war, does not mean that our battle has ended. Zach isn’t even going to be held accountable for it! It’s terrible. Isobel deserved better and the only way for omegas to get fair treatment is to change public opinion. I am working on it but there is quite a ways to go. I hope you’ll forgive Harry for his rude question earlier, but it is actually quite alarming for an omega our age to be a virgin. His nosiness is inexcusable, of course, but his line of reasoning is just another thing that I am fighting to set straight for your kind. There is no reason why an omega should have to be mated to live out their full lives.”

“It’s…It’s just the way that it has always been when the magic takes hold.” Draco smiled at Hermione. She was alright for a muggleborn witch, it turned out. 

“Why haven’t you sought out your mate, Malfoy?”

Draco was wary of Potter, but he appreciated Hermione’s candor so he answered for her sake. “I’m afraid I’ll have the same experience as Isobel. Even if I’m lucky and manage to avoid my mate, going outside unsupervised gives an alpha with more dastardly convictions plenty of time to sweep in and possess me.”

“That’s understandable. I don’t think I would have treated you well right after the war.” 

“Harry.” Hermione warned. 

“But I have since undergone years of therapy and I now know that I can only control my own actions and intentions.”

Draco looked at Potter like he had lost his marbles.

“What Harry means to say, I think, is that things have cooled down quite a bit since the war. If you were interested in venturing outside, the magical nature of the bond to your fated will eventually guide you in their direction.”

“I’ll think about it.” Draco conceded. 

All of a sudden there was a crash in the main house as someone tumbled out of the fireplace.

“Hello!? Blimey, I can’t believe that I’m here again. Harry? Hermione? Malfoy?”

“Out here, Ron!” Harry called out to his best friend. 

“Weasel’s here?”

“Don’t call him that.” Harry snapped. 

“What should I call him?”

“Mr. Weasley will be fine.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys. She and Draco stood up as Ron came barreling outside.

“Don’t remember this from our Order days!” Ron said jovially as he took in the refurbished back garden. 

“My mother and I worked very hard on it, Mr. Weasley.” Draco bowed his head demurely to the newest guest in his home. 

Ron took his chin in his hand and lifted his head until their eyes met as was the customary initial greeting amongst pureblood alphas and omegas. Harry and Hermione, though bright and educated, had little interest in or knowledge of the older customs and hadn’t engaged with Draco in this way. 

“I like it,” Ron told him kindly. “Please call me Weasley, though. Mr. Weasley is my father and I fancy myself a fair bit more attractive than him.”

Draco cracked a small smile and lifted his eyes from the freckled nose that he had been stubbornly focused on to meet Ron’s blue eyes with his own gray ones. The pair immediately blacked out.


	4. Chapter Three

Narcissa rushed outside when she heard Hermione scream. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked while taking in the scene in front of her. The youngest Weasley boy was strewn over her own son, both of whom looked blissfully knocked out, while Hermione and Harry looked absolutely shell shocked. “Oh, well, that’s a surprise. I think that it might be best if you two head to your own homes now. Mates usually wake up rather disoriented.”

“We can’t leave Ron,” Hermione started to protest but Harry cut her off. 

“We’ll be on our way then. Please owl me if you need anything, Narcissa.” Harry kissed both of her cheeks and led Hermione out of the door while whispering frantically at her that Ron would be fine. He could handle his own against Malfoy and his mother. 

"Thank you for understanding, Harry. You are always so good to me." She touched her right hand to her heart as they made their way to the floo. Narcissa called for Kreacher as soon as they were gone and ordered him to levitate Ron’s body off her son’s and into the lounge chair. Then she asked him to place a cushioning charm under Draco. Once both boys were comfortable, she began pacing.

This was by no means the worst possible outcome she had dreamed up while Draco was letting the world pass him by. It was also not the best possible outcome. She had been rather hoping that one of his old Slytherin friends would reach out to him and turn out to be his mate. Bonds have a better chance of settling nicely on friendly footing. However, in the years since Draco’s release from prison, seldom few letters ever arrived for him. He was the only minor that served time after the war and it seems that all of his old friends worked hard to distance themselves from that wayward association. She could hardly blame them, Slytherins were predictably and rightfully self-interested. 

Unfortunately, Draco and Ron had nothing but enmity for one another in their shared past as far as she was aware. It was quite possible that Ron had even physically harmed Draco in their school years or during the war and a relationship based off of violence and mutual disdain was one that she seldom permitted herself to ponder for her own child. The only reason it ever even crossed her mind was the rather high likelihood that her son would end up fated to someone who lost a loved one or was maimed as a consequence of Voldemort's actions. Many people like that were left with an understandable penchant for revenge. 

Ron could possibly be among those who wished them harm because he lost so many people in the wars. He had more reason than most to hurt her son, but less reason than most to outright reject him and leave him to wither and die. She would have to really shower him with kindness if she hoped to swing his favor even a little bit in her son's direction. At the very least, the Weasley family cherished omegas. Their own matriarch was one, if Narcissa remembered correctly, and a rather fierce one at that. Molly had killed her own demented sister after all. 

Though Narcissa thought that there was a nonzero chance that the young red-headed man lying prostrate before her would leave her son to die, she had to reckon with the other possibility that Ron might be the perfect man for her temperamental and mouthy son. Molly Weasley was no shrinking violet so he wouldn’t have any expectations for Draco to be constantly deferential. Draco would need a lot of leeway in that regard, she was certain. Even better, Ron already knows that her son is a pretentious git. Any improvements from his childish persona would be a quite welcome surprise. And Draco was almost twenty-three now, surely he could convince a Weasley boy that he has changed his tune about pureblood supremacy and would be a suitable mate in the current political climate. She had to have hope. 

A light tap on her shoulder sprung her from her thoughts. 

“Mrs. Malfoy?” Ron asked as she turned around to face him. 

“Yes and you must be Ronald Weasley. I don’t believe that we have ever formally met.”

“No, ma’am. Just that one time at your old home.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Y’know, when Harry’s face was disfigured and we were dragged off to the dungeons.”

“I, yes, I remember. Please have a seat at the table. Maybe a sandwich could wash away those memories for us both,” Narcissa examined the food on the tray more closely as she spoke. “On second thought, I will go get a bottle of wine from the cellar. Tuna is hardly a palate cleanser.” 

She excused herself politely, leaving Ron alone with a slumbering Draco. He groaned once he was alone and sat sideways on the lounge chair that he had woken up on. Draco was a good looking bloke when he was absolutely silent and sleeping. Though if Ron listened closely, he could hear tiny agitated mutterings falling from Draco’s lips. It was kind of cute that he talked in his sleep. 

Ron really didn’t harbor any hatred for Draco or his family. Rather, he didn't feel that way anymore. He had worked incredibly hard after the war to rid himself of those feelings and even attended a muggle seminar called ‘anger management’ to deal with it. It had helped him immensely to let things go and move on with his own life. A life that he once thought would end tragically young. He became much more carefree once he realized that he had many years ahead of him if he played his exploding snap deck correctly. While the thought of having Draco Malfoy, the incredible bouncing ferret, as his omega wasn't the most ideal situation, Ron knew he could handle it. How bad could it be?

Narcissa reentered with a bottle of white. “I thought a Savennières-Roche-aux-Moines would do? It’s an adequate vintage.”

“Um, sure,” Ron smiled graciously and decided against telling her that it all tastes the same to him anyway. 

“My wine collection was one of the very few things that I was allowed to recover from the Manor before they froze our assets. I suspect the official who allowed it didn’t know quite how valuable it all is. This is one of my old favorites. It’s said to be the most cerebral wine in the world.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa busied herself pouring the wine for them and held out her glass for a cheers. “Of course.”

“Shouldn’t you pour a third?” Ron gestured to Draco on the ground.

“I wouldn’t want it to oxidize in the glass while we wait.”

“I could cast a stasis on it?”

Narcissa was pleasantly surprised by that kind offer. It was wholly unnecessary, Draco would have a glass when he regained consciousness either way, but the sentiment was encouraging. She poured a third glass and Ron flicked his wand to preserve it. “That’s lovely. Thank you.”

Ron was becoming a bit uncomfortable with how much Narcissa was smiling at him. “You don’t have to look at me like that, you know, I promise I won’t reject him outright. It’s a privilege to have an omega for a mate.”

Narcissa inclined her head and mulled over her words. “I thank you for saying that, Ronald. My son is hesitant around alphas. It’s nice to know that you wish him no harm based solely on the fact that he is an omega.”

“Of course not, I would never treat an omega that way. It’s despicable. Even if it is Malfoy.” He blushed handsomely.

“I have long thought that our name might be an issue for any alpha. You must know that we are unattached to it these days. He’d surely take yours if you let him.”

Ron’s face became impossibly more red and he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ronald, I think that you should know that Draco does not have many friends these days. Aside from Luna and myself, he has precious few confidants at all. He isn’t the person he was when you last knew him. I hope that you’ll give him a chance. He needs an alpha that will be lenient with him, but mostly he needs one that will take care of him.”

Ron was a bit offended that she thought he wouldn’t. “I’m not the kind of alpha who abandons their mate.”

She smiled at him again, “No, I thought not.”

Ron and Narcissa drank their wine in silence for a while as they waited for Draco to wake up. It wasn’t the most comfortable of silences but they were both engrossed in their own thoughts. Narcissa was focused on Ron saying that he wouldn’t outright reject her son. Outright. It was a strange word choice that didn’t convey much in they of confidence for her son; however, everything else the youngest Weasley boy said was perfectly agreeable. She just had to trust him at his word. 

Ron, for his part, was mostly thinking about the responsibility of mating with an omega. He was twenty-three already and most alphas with omega mates meet them within the first two years after their twentieth birthday. It was a little disappointing for him to realize that he wasn’t likely to have an omega for himself. It was also a little liberating. Now he’s torn between two conflicting desires; a life where he is free to travel and sow his wild oats or a life where he is forcibly bound to a blond brat. Having an omega typically indicates a very stable and domestic future. It wasn’t quite what Ron had in mind for himself after growing up with so many siblings. He found that he enjoyed peace and quiet quite a bit in his adult life. 

They polished off their first glass and dipped into their second when Draco began jerking his limbs and fluttering his eyelids. Narcissa was at his side in an instant. Draco came to with his mother hovering altogether too close over his head. 

“He’s awake,” Narcissa called back to Ron, her voice carrying to where he was awkwardly shuffling his feet over her shoulder. He looked about ready to run out of the house from Draco’s horizontal point of view. 

“Morning,” Ron wisecracked. 

Draco was panicking. He really truly had not expected one of the alphas that Luna sent him to be his match. He was perfectly fine as he was before all the meddling. He had his books and his hobbies and Luna. All of that seemed inconsequential now as he stared Weasley down. Ron Weasley. His fated mate. Merlin help him. 

Weasley was objectively handsome. He had grown into his features and stood confidently at a very respectable height that was about half a head above his own. His muscles had filled out as well, granting him with the same physical appearance as most of those toned superhero actors. The ones that Draco saw on the rags at the muggle market he frequented to buy food and other essentials incognito. Ron would have been extremely enticing if he wasn’t a Weasley. 

“Hello, Weasley.”

“Mrs. Malfoy, would you mind if I talk to your son privately?”

“Only if you’ll promise to take care of him. It takes omegas longer to recover from the shock of it all.”

“I will do my best,” Ron smiled broadly at his mother which placated her pestering for the moment. She shot one last worried look at Draco before she swept gracefully from the room, patting Ron on the shoulder on her way out. 

Ron walked over to him and offered his hand to help him up off of the floor. Draco accepted it after a few tense moments and allowed himself to be led back to the table. 

“We poured you some wine,” Ron said. 

“Yes, Weasley, there are three glasses so that was already pretty clear to me,” Draco could barely meet his gaze. His eyes were soundly focused on the wilting cluster of hyacinth that he had planted last spring. He was falling behind on his watering schedule. 

“There’s no need for that attitude.” Ron flicked his wand at the glass and removed the stasis charm. “Drink.”

Draco spastically grabbed his glass and glugged it all in one go. Afterwards, he squinted pitifully at him in a manner that could only be described as cute. His mouth was screwed up in a tremulous pucker as well but he eventually deflated. He snarked, “Did you mean that as an order?” 

“I did but I underestimated how seriously you’d take it.”

“My apologies, Weasley. I am feeling disoriented about all of this.”

“It’s pretty shocking, right?” 

“I…don’t know what you want me to say, Weasley.”

“It’s just that I hated you,” Draco’s stomach sank at Ron’s words. “Like truly hated you, I mean, we were just kids and I was especially… headstrong at the time but I hated you.”

Draco stared at the floor now, waiting stonily for the death knell from Ron. 

“Did you hate me?” Ron asked. 

“What?” His head snapped to attention at that. 

“Did you hate me? Why were you always picking on my family? What made you say all that stuff? Bother me about money, Harry about his destiny, Hermione about her heritage?”

“Father said that you were a traitor and mud—muggleborns were inferior. Mr. Potter,” Draco blushed deeply at the honorific that Potter insisted on and cleared his throat before continuing, “rejected me, you remember, don’t you? On the train in our first year?”

“Yeah, Malfoy, I remember you on the train. You were always a right git on the train.”

“You deserved it. You humiliated me before we even stepped into the castle.”

Ron laughed heartily. “So that’s it then? Your feelings were hurt and you proceeded to torment us for years and join a murderous, purist cult to spite us?”

“It wasn’t like that. I was trying to make my father happy and keep my family safe. Bullying you was simply a nice distraction.”

“You just did whatever your father said then? I have five brothers and none of us ever listened to our Dad, like never even once.”

“Are any of your brothers omegas?” Draco was seething inwardly, but his face betrayed none of his annoyance. 

Ron looked quizzically at him. “No, they’re not. Bill and I are alphas and the rest of my siblings are betas, Ginny included.”

“Well, then none of you would have felt compelled to do anything your father said. The urge to obey isn’t keyed into your magical core like it is for me.”

“Interesting theory,” Ron conceded. “But Harry, Hermione and I are all alphas and you never listened to a damn thing that we had to say.”

“You were children before you presented.” Draco smiled winningly. “I always mouthed off to my peers. Some of them even enjoyed it.” 

Ron snorted. “Your mother told me all about your nonexistent social life when you were passed out cold so they can’t have enjoyed it that much.”

“That is low.” Draco’s chin was higher than it had been since this conversation started. He looked as haughty as he had in their youth and Ron didn’t know how to make him loosen up again. Haughty was not his favorite look on Malfoy. 

“True enough but I think it can’t be all that fun living here with your mother, without any friends, homebound in a creepy London townhouse.”

“It’s not the worst possible scenario. I have Luna and I happen to like London.”

“I’d AK myself if I was still living with my mum at The Burrow.”

“Hmm and they say omegas are dramatic.”

Ron laughed lightly. “Have you met my mum?”

Draco took his rhetorical question literally. “No, I don’t believe I ever officially did.”

“I don’t remember either. It all kind of blurs together when you work so hard in therapy to put it behind you.”

“Therapy?”

“It’s a muggle thing. You talk about your feelings.”

“Gross.”

“Probably would have done you a whole lotta good in sixth year.”

Draco glared at him again and grabbed a handful of grapes in lieu of responding. It’s a pity omegas have such short tempers, Ron sighed to himself. 

“It’s only a suggestion, Malfoy. You don’t have to take my word for it.”

“Do you go to a muggle home for this therapy?”

“You go to their office. It’s kinda like a healer except they specialize on your mind.”

“Like the Janus Thickey Ward?”

“That’s sort of similar, sure.”

Draco looked more confused than ever. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you go to St. Mungo’s?”

Ron shrugged, drawing Draco’s attention to his broad shoulders. “Therapy was more efficient.”

“Look, Weasley, as much as I am enjoying this conversation about your muggle medical history, I'm a bit lost and I think that we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

“Like how I’m your Alpha.” Ron nodded sagely while Draco’s face turned beet red. 

“Yes, like that.”

“I talked about it with your mother before you woke up. I don’t plan on rejecting you if that’s what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t do that to an omega.”

An omega, Draco thought bitterly, he’d never abandon any omega. Thank Merlin his mate is soft on the fairest sex, Draco would be as good as dead otherwise. 

“Thank you for your all encompassing kindness, Alpha.”

“I thought I said I didn’t need that attitude.” Ron chided gingerly, looking about as resolute as one could when the mouth was attached to such a cute face. 

“You didn’t demand it.”

“And I won’t,” Ron promised. “I kinda like you the way you are.”

Draco’s eyebrows receded almost as high as his hairline. “Since when?”

“Since I realized that you are the cutest omega I have ever seen, Malfoy. It’s like Luna says, the smubbledarts are never wrong in a love match.”

“Oh no. You don’t actually believe that nonsense, do you?”

“Every word of it.” He had a wide, shit-eating grin. 

“Wonderful. I am destined to spend my whole life surrounded by lunatics.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Malfoy. I have to court you first. Try you on for size.”

“Excuse me?” That turn of phrase was particularly uncouth and Draco couldn’t let it slide. 

“I’d like to take you out on a date, I mean. Maybe more if it goes well. What do you think?”

“I don’t have a choice in the matter. Your whim is my desire. That’s how this goes typically.”

“Sure, that doesn’t mean that I want to date someone unwilling though.” Ron reached across the table and tenderly traced Draco’s jaw before cradling his chin in his palm. “Look me in the eyes again, Malfoy.”

Draco met his gaze immediately. His eyes really were a beautiful shade of blue, similar to a robin’s egg or the farthest point in the sky on a clear, breezy day. He lost his breath staring into them. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Ron leaned forward, moving his dominant hand from Draco’s chin to take his left one to his lips for a kiss. Draco abruptly scooted his chair to the farthest corner he could. 

"Perfect, I will owl you with the time. Please thank your mother for her hospitality."

Ron nicked a tuna sandwich from the tray and winked at him as he headed for the floo.


	5. Chapter Four

Draco was absolutely exhausted after Ron left. He called in Kreacher to clean up the mess and took to his room with a trashy novel for the night. Immersed as he was in that smut, he nearly rolled to the floor in surprise when an old barn owl flew uncoordinatedly through his window and dropped a note on his bed.

Malfoy,

I will pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. Dress nicely but don’t overdo it on my account.

XX  
Ron Weasley

Draco had absolutely no idea what any of that was supposed to mean. Nicely and overdo it were far too open to interpretation for Draco’s omega to get a good night's sleep. Also, xx? Was that supposed to be some sort of modern glyph for an ancient rune? He was right all along, it seemed, Weasley was clearly a raving madman. Draco’s incredible luck never ceased to amaze him. He called for Kreacher to fetch treats for the bird and scrawled a note in return.

Weasley,

I will be dressed in my most formal attire if you are to take me out. Please do not expect anything less of me. Also, what in Merlin’s name is an XX?

 ~~Yours,~~  
Draco Malfoy

“Darling,” His mother called through the door. “What is all that hooting?”

“Weasley sent an owl.”

“Are you indisposed or may I come inside?” She called again.

“You can come in. I’m presentable.” In fact, he was splayed out on the bed in little more than his nightclothes but he was presentable enough for her.

“Ew,” Narcissa let out on an exhale as she entered. “That is one frumpy owl.” The owl in question let out three angry hoots in response before flapping away with Draco’s missive.

“Expected of a Weasley.” Draco had his right hand haphazardly thrown over his eyes impetuously. Narcissa sat herself in the rickety antique chair at his desk and leaned over the back to admonish him.

“That particular Weasley is your mate, Draco.”

“It just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?”

“He seems kind and he’s bulky in the way you’re inclined to appreciate.” She gestured to the cover of his novel which Draco hurriedly hid under his pillow.

“He’s a Weasley, Mother. How could he possibly be my mate? I need someone who will shower me with presents and lift our status in society to its former heights.”

“And yesterday you wanted to die alone, surrounded by your erotic novels and a dozen cats.”

“I never mentioned cats,” Draco balked.

“A mother always knows.”

Draco scoffed at her. “He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“In a common sort of way.” She joked gently at her son as he finally sat up against his headboard to face her properly.

“He wants me to dress nicely for our date tomorrow, but I don’t have any formal robes,” Draco whined. “Do you think I could have a fitting at Madame Malkin’s during your shift tomorrow?”

“I will ask, Dragon.”

Inwardly, Narcissa was over the moon that her son was showing an interest in dressing well again. It had been too long since the two of them bonded over their love of fashion together. Draco had been perfectly content to wear his two sets of casual robes threadbare over the last few years. All the better to make himself invisible to the predators, he insisted. Invisible never really suited her demonstrative boy, but she was wary of pushing him too hard in any direction. Magic had a way of sorting life out, as Grandmère Rosier used to say. Now that Narcissa and Draco were without their magic, Grandmère Rosier’s lessons in fate were more important to her than ever. It was reassuring to know that magic thrummed around her existence even if it was no longer inside of her.

“Thank you, Mother, but do please leave me to my beauty rest. I have a date tomorrow evening.”

She rose gracefully and glided to his bedside to drop a kiss on her son’s forehead before saying goodnight. Who knew how much longer she’d have the opportunity to do that?

Draco flipped over onto his stomach and pulled his book from its hiding spot. Taking a closer look at the cover, the two men on it did bear a striking resemblance to himself and Weasley in terms of their physiques. He cursed his Mother for being right about that, too, before diving back into the tale of staunch rivals turned star-crossed lovers exploring the Amazon rainforest together on a quest to find the last of the great mapinguari. He drifted off before it got too steamy, unfortunately.

Draco woke up the next day to the same decrepit owl on his nightstand holding a note that read, ‘It’s muggle for kiss kiss,’ and blushed vermilion.

++++++++

Ron should’ve called out of work that day. He was buzzing in anticipation of his date and by no means paying attention to the till at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Granted, he’d never called out before and George was counting on him to show up so it didn’t really seem like an option that morning. However, George was less than amused by his lackluster performance after the third item Ron practically gave away to a customer.

“We are a running a business here, Ronnikins. Did I do something to you that is making you push me aggressively into the red?” George cut into his anxious daydreams.

“No, mate, I’m a bit distracted today is all.”

“No kidding. You let little Teddy and his friend walk away with two ever-changing ‘Pop Goes the Weasels’ in their pockets. Andromeda was all over me last week for encouraging his mischievous streak and now we are abetting his kleptomania, too! You deal with her the next time she’s angry.”

Ron smiled. “That one was on purpose. If you’re gonna get mad at me for anything, you should be on my arse about the case of forget-me-not potion I sold to Mrs. Lightfoot for seventeen sickles instead of seventeen galleons.”

“A case? Ron! What is wrong with you, mate?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, I mean, not really anyway, I found out that I have an omega last night and it kinda got my mind spinning.”

George cuffed Ron upside the head with the inside of his wrist. “And you decided it was a good idea to come waste the day away in my shop when you’re so obviously lovestruck and useless to me?”

“Um, yeah? I’m needed here.”

“Not today you’re not. Out, go home, relax, get ready. I don’t want to see you.”

“But —”

“I’m serious, Ron. You can tell me all about the unlucky omega who got stuck with you tomorrow. Go get your mind right and make a good impression. Essie can man the register today. Essie, come here please!”

Essie Bagshot, a very eager young witch with stars in her eyes for George, came running at her name. “What’s up, boss?”

“You’re going to work the till for the rest of the day. Ron’s taking a personal.”

Essie looked at Ron quizzically, her deep brown curls falling over her breasts as she dipped her head in his direction. “Are you sick?”

“Um, sure.” Ron figured that feigning an illness was less embarrassing than being hung up on his date with Draco Malfoy so he went with that.

“Okay, I hope you feel better!” She was more than amenable to the switch away from stocking shelves because it meant more time to ogle George.

“Thanks, Essie.” Ron muttered glumly as he wandlessly summoned his cloak from the back office and made his way to the door. He snorted when he heard her invite George for a pint after work once she wrongly assumed he was out of earshot. Looks like he wasn’t the only Weasley brother with a promising night ahead of him.

Diagon Alley was bustling with impeccably dressed wizards and witches that afternoon. It was a chilly and bleak late winter day, so the only explanation for the unseasonable hubbub was the impending spring equinox. Ron guessed that high society must be preparing for their charity events seeing as the equinox was the annual start of gala season. He got invited to lots of those boring things now that he was a wealthy and honored war hero. They were all insufferable.

Regardless, everyone seemed enthused to see him in the street that day. Ron never minded when people took him aside to thank him for his work finding all the horcruxes but he always made sure to remind those people that saving the world was a group effort and he was only one small brushstroke in the portrait of victory. They’d eat that shit out of the palm of his hand and ask him to kiss a baby if they had one. Weasley really is king these days, he laughed to himself and looked forward to rubbing that change of fortune in Draco’s face over dinner that night.

Once he got to the Leaky, he ordered two shots of firewhiskey and a pint of red ale. He needed to shake these nerves out quickly and effectively, Malfoy would be able to smell the weakness on him if he didn’t. Though, now that Ron was thinking about it, he hadn’t smelled much of Draco’s scent last night. It was rare for an omega to have control over the release of their own pheromones. He’d have to ask him about that.

He lost half an hour in conversation with Tom the barkeep about the latest quidditch matches. Tom was a big fan of the Harpies and loved to chat about their brilliant seeker, Ginny Weasley. Ron happened to love talking about her, too.

“Day drinking?” He heard a familiar voice interrupt their conversation from over his shoulder. “Is this a typical Tuesday for you, Ronald?”

Glancing behind him, he was met with the concerned eyes of Mrs. Malfoy. Just great. “No, ma’am. I’m usually at work right now.”

She arched one perfectly crescent-shaped eyebrow at him and lightly admonished, “That is not reassuring in the least.”

He ducked his head, ashamed that she had found him here. “No, I’d imagine not. I came to have a few drinks before I head home to get ready for the date tonight. Did Malfoy tell you that I am taking him out.”

“He did.”

“You’re not going to tell him about seeing me here, are you?”

“Of course not. I want this to work out, Ronald. And I can’t be certain but I don’t think Draco wants a mate who wastes his day in a drunken stupor.” She was taking liberties there and she knew it. Ron was tipsy at most, he was a large man and could handle three drinks even if they were in quick succession. Draco probably wouldn’t even have a problem finding him here on a barstool. He’d be more likely to find it charmingly bohemian. She simply didn’t want Ron to get any ideas that she condoned this sort of behavior in her family.

“Right, thanks for the advice. I’m gonna finish this beer quickly and head out. I have lots to do for tonight.” That was a lie but Narcissa was willing to let it slide because it worked in her favor. Ron had full use of his magical abilities and it would take him approximately twenty minutes to get ready at maximum and that was only if he took a leisurely shower before doing so. He had five hours before he was due to pick up her son.

She beamed at him in that disconcertingly too polite way she had the night before. “That’s a great idea. I am about to gather Draco and take him to the robe shop for a new outfit. I’d hate for him to see you here when I get back!”

Passive aggressive and artificially courteous, the relation to Andromeda Tonks was becoming more and more evident the longer he conversed with Mrs. Malfoy. The small amount of liquid courage he had gained allowed him to tell her so, “You’re a lot like Andromeda.”

After she processed that, Narcissa's smile looked genuinely delighted. “Thank you for saying so, Ronald. Please don’t be here when I get back, though. I mean it.”

Ron knew from his scarier interactions with her sister that this was true. “I’ll be gone,” he promised, “and I’ll see you tonight.”

She gave him another appraising once over before walking over to the public fireplace. Once she had fully disappeared in a cloud of smoke, he ordered one more shot and one last beer, closed his tab and chugged them both while silently cursing the small and insular nature of the wizarding community in London. He apparated to his own flat as soon as he was finished drinking. He wasn’t necessarily scared of Draco seeing him at the pub in the afternoon. They were young men, that was only natural. He was a teensy tiny bit afraid of Malfoy’s mother, though.

She was the littlest sister of Bellatrix and the younger sister of Andromeda, both intimidating in their own ways. Ron knew a thing or two about youngest siblings considering the size of his own family. He wouldn’t cross Ginny when it came to family matters. She had a lot to prove and always made sure that she proved it. Narcissa seemed liked she had the same sort of complex within her. He didn’t know Narcissa very well personally but he wasn’t about to get on the bad side of a woman who lied straight to Voldemort’s face and got away with it.

Ron collapsed onto his couch and turned on the telly Hermione had left him when she moved out, hoping to drown out his wandering mind with murder mysteries. It was as he set down the remote that that he saw the small note rolled up on his coffee table. He reached for it and unfurled it with a flick of his wrist. Underneath where had scrawled ‘It’s muggle for kiss kiss,’ Malfoy had drawn a beautifully realistic frog. He’d forgotten that Malfoy was a doodler.

Several hours later, Ron got up from the couch and began searching through his wardrobe for his best jumper. It was a deep navy blue in the softest cashmere available. Ron was confident that Malfoy would be eager to run his hands over the material before the night was out. He found it fairly quickly and cast a few charms to make it enhance his own alpha pheromones and hug his upper body snugly. That settled, Ron put on his his nicest pair of blue jeans and dragonskin loafers. He looked good and he knew it. The only thing left for him to do was to go buy some flowers to smooth everything over with Mrs. Malfoy.

+++++++

Draco’s day had dragged by. None of his novels held his attention and Kreacher didn’t want anything to do with him. He may have well and truly gone insane waiting on Weasley to show up if it hadn’t been for the shopping trip with his mother. Another first in a week riddled with them, he ventured into Diagon Alley and patronized a wizarding establishment.

The glares and hushed whispers were noticeable as he passed by, he’d expected they would be, but the crowds largely ignored him. His mother had, of course, sensed that was feeling trepidatious and held his hand for most of the walk. He held his head high and refused to be embarrassed by that, though it was difficult, because the contact was actually quite reassuring.

“Here we are,” she whispered to him when the made it to the entrance. “You remember where the men’s section is, don’t you dear?”

Draco dropped her hand and gave her a small nod. She pressed a handful of galleons into his palm and told him to spare no expense.

“Mother, no, this is too much.”

“You only have one mate and one chance at a first date, Draco. This’ll cover the best sets of robes that we sell.” She leaned in to give him a hug which he returned readily. “It’s only money, meant to be spent.”

Draco was not entirely convinced that this was the best use of her fairly paltry earnings but he didn’t want to snub her generosity so he placed the coins in his pocket and offered her his elbow to escort her into the shop.

“Madame?” She called out to her boss when they were inside the boutique.

“Yes, Narcissa! I am over here in the men’s section. I have some selections ready for your son.”

Draco and Narcissa made their way over to her and the rack of beautiful pastel robe sets that she had displayed for them.

“You are just as luminous as I remember,” She regarded Draco more kindly than he thought he deserved to be. Despite his inner feelings of inadequacy, her compliment left him weak in the knees and blushing prettily. “Yes, that is the exact pearly complexion I remember you having from your schooldays. That’s why I pulled out so many light colors. I hope that’s okay?”

“They’re beautiful, Madame. Thank you so much for picking them out for me.” Draco rushed to answer the witch who was lavishing him with attention. Narcissa was amused by the speed of his response. It wasn’t often that his omega tendencies were on full blast like this.

“I’d do anything for your mother and you by extension. She is best hire that I have made in years.”

“Madame, there is no need to shower me in praise, I’m a happily married beta after all.”

The shopkeeper hummed knowingly in response to that and turned her attention back to Draco. “I was thinking lavender or powder blue.” She held out those two options, noticing immediately that Draco was drawn to the blue one.

“Do you have anything that’s more of a robin’s egg blue, Madame?”

She smiled at him broadly. “I have everything, young man. Follow me.”

Two hours later, Draco was the proud owner of a set of dress robes the exact shade of Weasley’s eyes and he was resolutely trying not to freak out over that impulsive decision as he willed the rest of his afternoon away drawing landscapes in his sketchbook while he waited for his mother to be done with work. He still wasn’t ready to walk down the alley by himself. No matter, the time passed quickly enough and they were home with a few minutes to spare before Weasley arrived thanks again to the kindness of Madame Malkin.

Draco called for Kreacher to magically straighten his robes and perform a few other small charms that Narcissa wasn’t privy to as the two of them settled into the sitting room to wait for Draco’s mate. Ron arrived promptly at seven and his arrival through the floo was a marked improvement on his last. In his left hand, he held a comically enormous bouquet of narcissus flowers which he hastily handed to Draco’s mother.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Ron bowed. “Thank you for allowing me to take your son out tonight.”

Narcissa was touched by the gesture even though she knew it was an apology bouquet for the state she had found him in earlier. She curtsied in return, pleasantly surprised that Ron was taking the measures to do this in the proper pureblood fashion, and accepted the bouquet.

“It is my honor to oblige,” Narcissa choked up a bit as she told Ron the customary phrase, remembering fondly when her own father had said those exact words to Lucius. “Kreacher, please find a vase for this beautiful arrangement and place them on my bedside table.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Kreacher croaked as he popped away to complete her demand.

Narcissa leaned over to peck her son on the cheek before addressing Ron again, “I expect you’ll have him back by midnight?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wonderful, I’ve had Kreacher reset the wards to allow you apparition privileges for this evening, Ronald, so feel free to leave with Draco whenever you are ready.” She curtsied to him once more and made to leave but Draco reached out and grabbed her hand before she could do so. She spun back into her son’s arms and held him close for a few moments as Ron looked on. Then she kissed him goodbye on the cheek again, more definitively this time, and left the room with a burgeoning grin on her face.

Ron watched the scene bemusedly. Sure, he knew that Malfoy was a mama’s boy through and through but that didn’t really explain how clingy he was being tonight. Ron could chalk it up to his omega nature even though that didn’t feel true to his experience chatting with Malfoy the night before. He was having a hard time reconciling the two disparate personalities. He came to a conclusion about it pretty quickly despite the strange juxtaposition. After all, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Malfoy was nervous for the date.

Ron was at Malfoy’s side in two long strides. “I was thinking we could start at Morrisey’s Cocktail Lounge.”

Draco had absolutely no idea what that was so it must be one of the new businesses that opened since the war. He loved cocktails though so he readily accepted Ron’s hand when it was offered and gave him a small smile as he was side-alonged to their destination.

The bar in question was in the wizarding district of Dublin, a city where far less people had good reason to hate him. It was a thoughtful touch that had Draco leaning further into the man that had brought him there.

“C’mon then,” Ron placed his hand on the small of Draco’s back. “Let’s get started.”


	6. Chapter Five

Ron Weasley had grown into a veritable dreamboat and Draco was loathe to admit anything positive about the man so it must be true. Everything about their date up to this point had been incredible. Ron was chivalrous in all of the right moments and never made Draco feel unequal or small, unless it was in the exquisite way that made his omega side squeal. He was very good at evoking that response, much to Draco’s chagrin. 

After cocktails, Ron had taken Draco to a taco stand and to say that tacos were a vast improvement over Kreacher’s antiquated english cooking would be a egregious insult to tacos; they were the best thing Draco had ever eaten in his life. After Draco gracefully stuffed his face with the beguiling street food, Weasley had taken him dancing. Proper ballroom dancing, too, which was a splendid surprise. Draco hadn't been dancing since before the war and it felt sublime to be twirled and held and lead and lifted even if Weasley wasn’t the most accomplished partner on the floor. He held his own well enough. 

All in all, Draco had only one complaint. He had lost himself too heartily in his omega side, preening at Weasley’s attentions and acquiescing easily to his whims. Draco found that his more submissive disposition was quite disagreeable indeed. It was a bad precedent to set early on in a relationship and, oh sweet Merlin, he was beginning to think of this as a relationship. He was only one step away from becoming besotted with the stupid ginger man. This wouldn’t do. He had to regain his traction. 

Draco splashed water onto his face and patted it dry with the soft towel that the bathroom attendant provided him. Ron was waiting for him outside the lavatory and there was still plenty of time left before his inconvenient curfew to get the upper hand on the alpha.

“Weasley,” Draco said as he exited the bathroom. He approached his date with his nose in the air and began to formulate a sentence that he hoped would shift the power balance back into his domain when the man in question cut him off by sliding both of his arms around his waist and dropping his good-looking face into the crook of his neck for a long inhale. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shmuffin’ y—” Ron muttered but his voice was muffled and unintelligible from its current position. He slowly peppered Draco’s neck in close-mouthed kisses that had a burning coil of fluttering desire tingling through his limbs. 

“Care to repeat that?” Draco exhaled between two rather high-pitched moans he had involuntarily emitted from the gentle ministrations.

“I’m scenting you.” He said as he picked Draco up and spun him around to direct them both back to the dance floor. Draco slammed his fists into Ron's rock solid chest in a silent plea to be let down which Ron reluctantly abided, small pout on his face notwithstanding. 

“And what gave you the impression that was appropriate?”

“Your pheromones, they’ve been getting headier and heavier all night long until they were positively choking me when you went to the loo,” He leaned forward to whisper in Draco’s ear, inadvertently touching his nose to the shorter man’s earlobe, and dropped his voice perceptibly lower to a sultry drawl. “Did you miss me in there, Malfoy? Were you calling out to me?”

Draco’s eyes widened in alarm. Had he been calling out to Weasley? It wasn’t intentional. Was that even possible? He didn’t know enough about the particulars of omega scent glands to be sure. Maybe just thinking about his alpha could make his pheromones overwhelming? Or was it more to the point that his delighted thoughts about the whole evening had wafted through the wall to Weasley, the exact wizard who had his softer side purring in contentment? Either way, Ron’s reaction to his scent made it very clear that he was affected as well. 

“You smell like dragonfruit and lemon tea cakes fresh out of the oven. I couldn’t resist getting as close as possible.”

“Yeah, well, you smell like horse manure that hasn’t been turned properly,” Draco lied. Ron actually smelled like smoked pine needles and safety. Ron guffawed and nuzzled into Draco’s neck again. 

“Goo’ one, Malfoy.” He licked a wide stripe over the dip in Draco’s collarbone which caused Draco to stumble back into his waiting embrace.

“Feeling clumsy today?” Ron teased as he caught Draco staring up at him and breathing heavily through slightly parted lips. 

“Piss off, Weasley.”

Ron slid his hands down from Draco’s waist to rub softly over his hips in a vain attempt to soothe and steady him. Slowly and methodically, he picked up a nice rhythm and began undulating the two of them together to the bass in the music. It was only after a few moments of mind-numbing bliss that Draco shook himself out of his omega stupor and realized the style of music had changed in the dance hall. Gone were the stereotypical pureblood waltzes and marches that he had found comfort in earlier. In their place was a booming cacophony of sounds he couldn’t really typify which did little for the senses except exacerbate the pace of his already thundering heart. 

“Don’t think I will,” Ron smirked at him. 

“What is this music? Is this…music?” He nearly screamed in Weasley’s ear to get his point across. Weasley had the gall to pull back and laugh in his face. How barbaric. 

“It’s house music. They change to this after eleven on weeknights and play it all night long on weekends.”

Draco furrowed his brow. Wizardom had become appreciably more inclusive of muggle culture after the war. And while there were some things that he found easy to accept, like fit movie stars in the talking picture shows or the handy toaster that Luna bought him for his last birthday, this music didn’t make any sense to him. It might just be the disarming scent of smoky pine needles muddying his mind though because Ron was mouthing at his neck again. 

“Weasley,” he squealed. “Weasley!” 

Ron ran his right hand through Draco’s hair as the song got louder. How that was even possible, Draco didn’t know. 

“Alpha.” Ron intoned sternly at him as the darkness of his lust settled over his blue gaze. Well, shit. It was going to be pretty damn hard for Draco to attain the upper hand now that Ron was looking at him like that. 

“Alpha,” he corrected himself and Ron hummed happily in his ear. “Could we go outside for some air? I don’t like this noise very much.”

Ron instinctually responded to the distressed whine in his omega’s voice as any alpha would, he released a long and deep growl. Unfortunately, he failed to consider the effect it would have when reverberating right into Draco’s sensitive neck. Doing so had the unexpected outcome of dropping Draco immediately to his knees which drew a lot of curious looks from other couples. Ron shook his head vigorously to clear his thoughts. There wasn’t any imminent danger and the only thing distressing Malfoy was the genre of music, he rationally reminded himself. Quickly, he hooked both of his hands under Malfoy’s armpits and lifted him to his feet again. Malfoy looked at him dazedly.

“Alpha?” His eyes were a stormy sort of grey that begged for acceptance. Ron would have been cruel to withhold it and he was not a cruel man. 

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you. I’m sorry. Let me take you outside.” 

“Alpha.” Draco launched at Ron, linking his arms around the taller man’s neck and essentially climbing him like a tree. Ron, partially subdued by the comforting presence of his omega, was shaken at this behavior from Malfoy. As much as he liked the wildly wriggling proximity of his mate, and his lower extremities made it apparent that he liked it a lot, he didn’t feel great knowing that it was the direct result of scaring the shit out of him. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s take some deep breaths together,” Ron tried to calm down the man in his arms with techniques he had learned in therapy once they were back on the Dublin streets and away from the pounding music Draco had found so stressful. Draco eyed him balefully which he took as a promising sign that some distance from the club was treating him well. He kept his voice calm and level as he continued to soothe his omega. Draco stilled after a few minutes of his ramblings and wasted no further time before shoving Ron firmly away from him. 

“What the hell was that!”

“What was—” Draco cut him off before he could finish that sentence.

“Dropping me to my knees in public like I’m some sort of common street whore, I am a Malfoy, Merlin damn you! If I had had my wits about me, I would’ve, I would’ve cursed you dead.” An empty threat, of course, seeing as Draco had no magic and was notoriously not murderous. But he was hurt and humiliated by the spotlight Weasley’s actions had thrust onto his second sex. He had hid it from the world for years and was not at all ready for rumors to circulate about it now. Especially not rumors predicated on a scene like that. Tears smarted in his eyes. He stubbornly refused to let them fall in front of Weasley. 

“That wasn’t deliberate, Malfoy.” Ron had both palms held upwards and open in what he hoped was a placating manner. Draco sniffled petulantly and scuffed his left foot against the pavement. Ron smiled at him and took a tentative step closer. “My alpha nature got overzealous being near you. I never would’ve done that if I’d had any control over my actions.”

His words stung Draco’s ego considerably which was weird since he thought hearing that Ron hadn’t meant to publicly subjugate him would make him feel better. It seemed, however, that the warring factions within him couldn’t decide whether he found it more or less palatable that Ron Weasley was acting out of his more animalistic urges and not out of any sort of real human fondness he was harboring towards Draco. Instead of settling the matter with a visually expressive internal debate, he chose to glower at Ron even harder after that explanation. 

“Come off it, Malfoy.” Ron cracked a lopsided grin as he tried to reason with him again. “We had a good time tonight, didn’t we?”

And that was another problem, in Draco’s estimation, they were having a great time before their low-minded inclinations had mucked it all up. It was probably the best night Draco had experienced in ages; however, it was absolutely ruined by the loss of control he had felt at Ron’s outburst. He hated not being in control. The smubbledarts were wrong, damn it. Those bastard fleas were wrong about him. He downright hated being an omega. Draco sniffled again, a piteous sound that made Ron’s heart burst with affection. 

“Baby,” Ron’s voice hitched slightly as he practically cooed at him. Meanwhile, Draco’s semi-strong visage fell completely as he fully broke down in tears at that demeaning term of endearment. 

“Take me home, please?” Draco asked him plaintively through his heaving sobs. 

“Shhh, not like this, Draco.” Draco’s given name felt weird to say but it did seem to quiet his cries, if only a little. Ron opened his arms and slowly engulfed his mate in a comforting hug. He focused all of the magic and energy he could on making sure that it conveyed feelings of solace and a heartfelt apology for whatever it was he did that made Draco react like this. He really didn’t know what it was, but he wanted nothing more than to make his mate stop wailing in the middle of wizarding Dublin. 

Ron was becoming more aware of his surroundings now that he had Draco safe in his arms again and people were looking at them like they were both batshit crazy. He supposed that the onlookers were right about that. But how could two new mates attempting to test out the validity of their pairing despite years of interpersonal friction and generations of colored familial history seem sane? That would be asking for a miracle and Ron might be a wizard but he’d be hard pressed to walk on water. He idly ran his hands over Draco’s shoulders and absentmindedly hummed a waltz that he remembered Draco liking before his breakdown. Draco’s sniffling slowly subsided and he asked Ron again to take him home. 

"Please...Ron?"

“Okay,” Ron agreed to do so but he couldn’t help feeling like an abject failure for it.


	7. Chapter Six

“You’re an idiot,” Hermione snapped at Ron early the next morning. She wasn’t in any sort of mood to grant him undeserved kindnesses. He had rudely interrupted her busy work schedule by firecalling into her office when he knew she had a spare minute. She really needed to remember to remove herself from the Weasley family clock one of these days. 

“I know that, ’Mione! How do I make it up to him?” Ron asked trustingly, looking peaky with obvious remorse. 

“Just apologize. Write him a heartfelt letter or take him out to a park where you can maintain some privacy and talk to him face to face. It’s not that hard, Ron.”

“It is though. You know I’m no good at this stuff,” Ron groaned and dropped his face into his hands. 

“Ron, this isn’t like your previous relationships with me or Lavender or even Seamus. Draco is your omega and he is very susceptible to your wants and desires. You have to treat this situation delicately.”

“I wouldn’t call what me and Seamus had a relationship,” Ron muttered. 

“Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed. “Your one previous experience with a man was a series of fun hookups. This isn’t that!”

Ron blushed to the tips of his ears. He and Hermione were best friends, but it was still awkward to hear her opinions on his sex life. “I know,” he sighed. “I thought I knew what I was doing, ’Mione, but I botched it bad.”

“Look, Ron, it’s been years since you’ve known Draco personally and you can barely say that you even knew him then. He isn’t the boy who mocked you for dropping the Quaffle or made those silly crown-shaped badges. His biology has changed.” Hermione confided, desperately hoping that Ron would catch on to this train of thought quickly because she didn’t have time for this right now. She was due at a rally for better wolfsbane accessibility in fifteen minutes. 

“He’s still prickly,” Ron insisted. 

“Right, his personality is largely unchanged from when we knew him, even though his physiology has shifted. Does that make sense to you?”

Ron regarded Hermione thoughtfully, “Yes, I understand that he’s different now. We’re all different now.”

“That’s not even the whole of it, Ron. Our lives were disrupted when we came into our second sexes, sure, but our break up was nothing compared to what Draco experienced. He’s insecure about being an omega and he’s insecure about being a Malfoy. The combination of the two…in our world…..it means that you need to be very careful with him.”

“Of course I’m being careful with him! I’m not a monster,” Ron stammered indignantly. 

Hermione nodded at him sagely, “I know you’re a good man, Ron, and I believe that you are trying your hardest and doing your best. But do you want Draco as your mate? Really want him?” 

Ron looked contemplative, thinking back on how their first date had unraveled so fast. He had a hard time focusing on the specifics of it all because he was overcome with a primal need to protect, protect, protect every time he envisioned Draco looking up at him like he hung the moon. He wanted this to work more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to become the strong alpha that Draco so desperately needed.

“Yes,” Ron said, vulnerably nibbling the inside of his cheek. “I want him more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Then you need to prove that to him. Ron, listen to me, if you really want this then you have to put in the work. Draco is not a typical omega. He isn’t anything like your mum or Luna or Hannah. He is scared of his own shadow, never mind the shadows of those around him, and he has serious trust issues. You have to take things slow and be careful with him. Take some time to sit down and learn omega behavior patterns. You’ll be fine, I think, but I have to run — just try not to do anything that makes it worse before we chat again.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Ron grunted through clenched teeth. He was feeling even more anxious after listening to Hermione’s advice. Hermione apologetically blew him a kiss goodbye as she ended the call. 

Ron slowly extricated himself from his hearth, knees creaking as he got back up on his feet. He wanted to be with Draco, that much he knew for certain, and he was confident he could convince Draco that he would be able to take care of him completely if Draco would just let go of his pesky inhibitions and trust him.

Considering he’d die if Ron decided to formally reject Draco, that shouldn’t be terribly difficult to accomplish; however, death wasn’t the only alternative they had. Ron could conceivably never fully accept or reject his mate and leave Draco in an unending limbo for the rest of his life, terrified, alone and isolated in his home. Maybe Draco would prefer that, but Ron couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that his omega might live an empty and desolate life without him.

The way Ron looked at it, he had two options to get Draco to accept him. He could start researching on his own and make sure he was the most knowledgeable alpha to ever court an omega or he could go to his parents for guidance and talk to them about their own courtship. He really wasn’t ready to tell his Mum and Dad that his mate was Draco Malfoy so it looked like Hermione was going to have something to celebrate because, for the first time in his adult life, Ron was headed to the library. 

That very same morning found Draco Malfoy face down on the living room sofa. It was the exact position that he had bonelessly taken on after Ron dropped him off the night before. If his mother wasn’t so used to her only son’s theatrics, she might’ve been worried about him. 

“Draco, darling, it’s time to wake up. You are hours behind when we usually eat breakfast.”

Draco groaned at his mother but made no discernible effort to move. He’d been too mortified by his public display of hysteria to get any rest which meant that he was still physically and emotionally drained. He could’ve moved, of course, he wasn’t incapable of it. He was simply too caught up in the distressing cycle of memories from the night before to bother with breakfast. He wasn’t even hungry.

He had been overwhelmed by the crowds, the music, the people, and the sheer stimulus of it all, but to react like that, Draco shuddered, it wasn’t done in polite society. And even if he was voluntarily on the fringes of such a society, it wouldn’t do to behave in such an unbecoming manner if he had any hopes of rejoining the public one day. Three days ago, he hadn’t harbored a far-fetched belief that reentering the wizarding world was possible for him, but Ron had changed that. Just being around the man brightened his spirits. It was a bizarre and unexpected shift from how he’d viewed Ron and his large extended family for most of his life. Still, Draco wasn’t convinced that he was deserving of that glimmer of normalcy. 

“Draco,” His mother’s voice was becoming harsher. “It’s time to get up now. You can’t lounge the day away in yesterday’s dress robes.”

She had a point there. The beautiful blue robes were wrinkly and mildly odorous if he was being honest with himself. “Sorry, Mother,” Draco said as he flipped over onto his back and swung his legs to the floor. 

“That’s okay, darling. Just make sure that you are presentable within the hour. I was hoping to take you into Diagon again today.”

“Again? Why would I need to go back there so soon?” 

Narcissa beamed at him, incorrectly assuming his questions indicated consent to her plans. “Madame Malkin saw your sketches and was very impressed. She asked me if you would be available to design a new ad campaign for the Daily Prophet.”

“That sounds dangerously similar to a job, Mother.”

“Yes, well, this would be under the table. Illegal, if you will.”

“Illegal,” Draco repeated warily. “Illegal doesn’t seem like the best idea for me.”

“Neither does spending the entire day dramatically wallowing at home over whatever egregious error you think happened last night.”

He fixed her with a malicious stare and stated plainly, “It was egregious. I positively wailed on his shoulder. In the middle of the street.”

His mother shrugged at him. “We’ve all been there, my darling. There’s no need to sleep on the settee because of it.”

Draco crossed his arms petulantly. “That wasn’t the only reason I slept down here.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, dear, just be ready in an hour to head to Diagon.”

Draco hesitated but ultimately felt righteous in saying, “I don’t think I’ll be going with you. I can’t risk — I can’t risk violating the terms of my parole. Not now that I have,” he swallowed to settle his nerves and started his sentence again. “Not now that I have a mate to worry about.”

Narcissa regarded her son with an inscrutable expression, “Okay, darling, but do let me know if you change your mind. Madame is very keen to have your help.”

“Okay, Mother,” Draco let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Thanks,” he added quickly as he scurried around her and up the stairs into the relative privacy of his own bedroom. 

Once inside, he shed his dress robes, placed them neatly over the reading chair in the corner and collapsed onto his bed. The thought of going out again, so soon after the hectic events of yesterday, had sent his mind spiraling straight into the dark places he had grown accustomed to over the last five years. Draco knew that he was in for an episode when his chest became too tight to draw in air, his throat felt like it was set aflame, and his jaw locked. The best way to remedy his symptoms was to regulate his breathing and retreat into the happier recesses of his mind. 

He always drew his knees to his chest to begin calming himself down. Then he’d think about the foggy moors that surrounded his childhood home in Wiltshire. Unlike the forests, the moors had been too open to be useful to the Death Eaters that tainted most of his youthful experiences. The moors were his happy place, perfectly preserved and out of harm’s way. He could imagine himself skipping over the rocks and leaping down the hilly slopes without a single care. 

Traveling through the murky landscape in his mind, Draco escaped to the relative safety of the Zabini Manor. He could picture his old friend Blaise greeting him with open arms, tucking Draco’s body into his side and inviting him inside. He had always liked hearing his friends heartbeats and they had all indulged him in his need to be hugged tightly when they were younger. They probably knew that he would be an omega. It was only ever Draco who was completely oblivious to his own fate. 

Draco’s breath became shallow again. That was odd. Usually imagining these memories made him feel better, not worse. Draco had been a delusional child and when he explored his happy place, he could pretend that nothing in his life had ever shattered those blissful delusions. He could remain protected within the mindset that his desire to be controlled was normal for a young heir to a powerful family. He could pretend that all of his childhood friends were alive, that they all maintained their relationships with him despite his more serious involvement in the war, that they still wanted to hold him close and humor his bratty behavior. Those timeless visions weren’t able to soothe him today in the way that they normally did. He found his thoughts drifting distressingly back to Ron Weasley. 

Ron Weasley shouldn’t be able to have this sort of power of him. His head shouldn’t have felt so at home pillowed against Ron’s broad shoulders. Ron’s massive hands shouldn’t have been so comforting traipsing across his torso. He should’ve taken offense to being called ‘baby’ by his childhood rival. Instead, Draco had felt completely content in his arms. He had felt safe despite being surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar city. Having Ron by his side dimmed any potential threat tenfold. It was as if Draco instinctually knew that he could trust Ron. It was as if his omega fully took over the reigns and relinquished him of Draco Malfoy for the night. He liked it, or rather, he liked him. He liked him a lot.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude before the story takes a new turn!

Ron’s research was going absolutely nowhere. He had learned, over the course of six hours, that omegas thrive on caring for others and are especially keen on being praised and lavished with attention for it. He already knew that. His mother could give love like no other, but she expected it back multiplied by a million. She deserved it back multiplied by a million, too. Malfoy was a real sucker for the limelight in school so it’s not like Ron was unaware of his highly specific need for attention. Malfoy just didn’t merit the respect or love that he was clearly seeking back then. Maybe he did now, Ron couldn’t know for sure just yet. He was certainly physically attractive and their date had been pleasant enough, but Malfoy was still an underhanded git, right? 

The only thing that really seemed to change his perspective at all over the course of his readings was how odd Draco’s isolation seemed in contrast to the normal mating patterns of his kind. Most omegas couldn’t wait to seek out their mate despite the threat of rejection, potential acceptance of a lifelong bond was supposed to outweigh any trepidation or hesitancy on their end. Why didn’t it work that way for Draco? How had he been able to ignore his longing for so long? Was Ron the problem?

Ron dropped his head into his hands. He was getting riled up and self-conscious over Draco sodding Malfoy. This was truly unfair, he thought. Neville got to pair off with lovely and uncomplicated Hannah Abbott and he got stuck with sniveling, miserly Malfoy with his stupid platinum blonde fringe, soft lips, nipped waist and perfectly formed backside. Stupid sodding Malfoy. He was hot though, incredibly hot. Merlin help him. He needed to get Malfoy alone, really truly alone without his mother or a house elf hovering nearby, and talk this out with him. 

“Hey, mate,” Harry interrupted his thoughts by dropping a heavy caseload in front of him. “Hermione said I might find you here.”

“Little to no buggering help she’s been,” Ron grumbled. Harry plopped himself into the seat next to him. 

“Cut her some slack, huh? You’re romancing her childhood bully.”

Ron snorted. The situation really did seem batshit crazy when it was put so plainly. “Mine too. Malfoy, Draco sodding Malfoy,” Ron shook his head. “Who would’ve thought?”  


“Eh,” Harry considered. “He always was a bit of a ponce.”

“You’d know, for all the stalking you got up to.”

“And was right to do!” Harry exclaimed indignantly. 

“Sure, mate, super righteous of you to slice him to ribbons in a ladies lavatory,” Ron joked gently. 

Harry gave him a baleful stare and said, “He nearly killed you so I’d say I was well within my rights.”

“I’d say justice was served though. No magic and a stay in Azkaban was even a little harsh, I think.”

“You’re just saying that cause he’s an omega now. We grabbed a round at the pub after the sentencing, remember?”

Ron found that he did, in fact, remember that. Though now the memory was shrouded in shame and regret. “Still, Harry, don’t you think that was immature of us?”

Harry smiled fondly at his friend. “Ah, evolved therapy Ron strikes again.”

“I’m serious, mate. His life was derailed, too. Just, you know, kind of conversely from ours.”

“Next you’re going to tell me he had no choice in the matter and did the best he could? I was with you at his trial, Ron. I heard his defense. I even testified for the git. What did you do?”

“I didn’t have a separate testimony from yours,” Ron conceded. “But I’d like to think I would’ve spoke up for him if I could’ve come up with anything. And honestly, I should’ve railed against the verdict. The Azkaban part not withstanding, losing your magic….Harry, it’s unimaginable.”

“Yeah, it’s not — not great, but it’s not like they drained it from his body. He is still magical, he just can’t access it.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

“Yeah.”

Ron silently sized up his oldest and closest friend. Harry was looking especially put together for a mid morning drop in at the Ministry archives and library. It’d been a week or two since the two of them really talked one on one, but he didn’t think that Harry could do a stylistic overhaul that quickly. Something was up with him and Ron figured he might as well try to engage Harry on another topic as he was pretty stressed out about the Malfoy situation and years of therapy can only go so far in restraining the Weasley temper. “So, how’s Morag?”

“Er — We broke up.”

Ah, Ron thought, there it is. He asked, “She dumped you when she realized Harry Potter is just as much of a tosspot as the rest of us?”

“No, we dumped each other when Linda Little made a pass at me at the pub Thursday and I didn’t say no.”

“So she walked out on you? After what, seven weeks?”

Harry waved his hand to and fro as if to say that it was neither here nor there. 

“Harry. Morag was your most serious relationship since Ginny. Are you okay?”

Harry smiled wanly and said, “Yeah, of course. You know what they say about Hufflepuffs.”

“Uh, no.”

Harry shot him a filthy grin and suggestive eyes, “Let’s just say Linda worked hard to make me feel better.”

Ron shook his head at his friend fondly. He was downright exasperated with rituals and traditions so it was nice to hear that someone was getting laid. Even if Harry could stand to be a little less unabashed about it, in his opinion. He tossed a scroll of love runes at Harry’s head and said, “Gross.”

Harry laughed that off and broke out some case files to go over as the two of them idly chatted through most of his work day. 

Later that night, Draco was lounging in his back garden when that frumpy owl dropped another note in his lap. His heart started hammering. A note from his mate meant that maybe, just maybe, Draco hadn’t completely ruined everything with his wildly vacillating emotions. 

Draco,

I’m sorry that our first date went wonky. Let me make it up to you?

Ron

The man could stand to read a few romance novels if he thought that was a passable apology. And yet Draco found himself unwillingly charmed by his brusqueness. Yes, Draco thought, I’d allow this man to do just about anything if it means spending another evening together. So, Draco scrawled his own note on the back and sent the owl away with it and a blueberry for his travels. 

What did you have in mind, mate mine?


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! Happy new year to everyone reading this fic!

Ron picked up Draco early the next day and took him to a small coffee shop in the village nearby his parents house in Ottery St. Catchpole. A neutral ground. He was anxiously tapping his fingers against the handle of his coffee mug when Draco reached out a hand to still them.

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior on our last date,” Draco started in what he hoped was a diplomatic and self-assured tone. 

“What?” Ron asked, too lost in his own thoughts of how he was going to convince Draco that moving in with him was a good idea to realize that the blonde man was at war with his own insecurities. 

“My antics, such that they were, were unbecoming and ungrateful. I’m very sorry, Ronald. You planned such a wonderful date for us and I’m too unused to the outside world to appreciate that. It won’t happen again,” Draco’s gaze was planted firmly on his own coffee cup by the time he had finished speaking. 

“Oh no, baby, don’t apologize, I didn’t mind all that. I want you to be comfortable with me.” 

“We don’t have the best history for that to happen anytime soon,” Draco grimaced, ignoring the casually uttered term of endearment that had turned his stomach into goo. 

Ron, overwhelmed by the bare truth of that statement and wanting desperately to set his omega at ease, chose to counter with some humor, “It wasn’t all bad. I am your king, despite it all.”

That quip was rewarded with a genuine guffaw before Draco grew stern again. “I am sorry, though. Not just for my recent mental breakdown, but for all the other stuff back in school, too. I had a lot of time to think about all that in prison. How terribly I treated you and your friends is one of my biggest regrets. Merlin. I don’t know how you can even bear to look at me.”

“Hey, chin up! I thought I already told you that’s all in the past. Justice was served, Draco. You don’t need to dwell on it.”

“But —”

“No, no buts. You’re not that Draco Malfoy anymore. I don’t live in the past and if you’re going to be mine then you can’t either. You’re my mate and I want to get to know the person who you’ve become,” Ron reassured him. 

“I’m a hermit,” Draco warned. 

“I think that I have a solution for that,” Ron rushed out, nervously shaking his knee beneath their bistro table and lightly jostling their drinks. 

“Alright there, Weasley?” Draco asked, tipping his head to the side in concern as he righted the table. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Ron snapped quickly before realizing that his tone was misplaced. “Sorry,” he amended. “I’m just nervous to see how you’ll react to my idea.”

“You?” Draco sneered gently at him with mischief dancing in his eyes. “You came up with a thought original enough to qualify as an idea?”

Ron snorted, “Yes. But I really don’t know how to broach this subject.”

“It’s not going to get any easier the longer you stall, you know.”

“Ithinkthatyoushouldmoveinwithme.” Ron gushed quickly before he could back out of it. 

Draco’s eyebrows raised in tandem, disappearing beneath his tousled hairdo of the day. He was stunned. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that Weasley would suggest that they domicile together so quickly. It had hardly been a week since they discovered they were mates, after all. 

“Um,” Draco floundered, picking at the pastry in front of him anxiously. “Come again?”

Ron took a deep breath. “I think that you should move in with me.”

Draco nodded dazedly, assured that he hadn’t misheard the other man earlier, but no more sure of how he should respond. “Oh.”

“I know it’s sudden,” Ron exclaimed, attempting, perhaps in vain, to regain control of this conservation. 

“Very much so.”

“I just want you to know that I am serious. About you. As my omega.”

“Is this a joke, Weasley?”

“A fuckin’ shit one if it is, I’m sweating profusely trying to get my thoughts in order.” Once Ron said it, Draco realized that it was quite true. The redheaded man had two very unbecoming stains underneath his armpits and a sheen of perspiration all over his face. “I want you to know that I know how important it is for omegas to have stability. I want to give you that — stability. For you. I’m cocking this up, aren’t I?” 

“You’re stumbling a bit,” Draco said, shaking his head in wonder. It seemed too good to be true, an Alpha wizard in pristine standing offering to share a home with Draco, a paroled death eater with no magic. There had to be a catch. 

Ron scrubbed roughly at his eyes and set his lips into a firm line, “I want to assure you, Malfoy, that I’m serious about this. On neutral ground. Without either of our families breathing down our necks. What do you say?”

“I’d say it’s too soon. Far too soon,” Draco said, but as he watched Ron’s hopeful face crumple in disappointment he hastily added, “but if you want to show me the home that you would like us to move into, maybe that’d convince me?”

Ron’s face broke into an earnest grin. “Great! It’s actually the flat above my brother’s shop in Diagon — I know I said no family stuff, but no one has been living there ever since Fred died. So no one will even know that we’re there.”

Draco blinked long and slow while tilting his head to the side quizzically. “You want to live with me in your late brother’s old apartment?” 

“Only so no one in my family will find out!”

Draco’s eyes widened with the realization that this was all an effort to disguise the nature of their burgeoning relationship. Of course that was the catch. He was going to be squirreled away like a sidepiece. He could live with that, he supposed. It beat both dying and going back to azkaban which, while a pretty low bar, was how Draco judged most things. It only twinged his heartstrings to think that Ron would never see him as an equal partner. Not that it should, Draco rushed to contradict his internal diatribe, he knew he would never be good enough for a bloody war hero anyway. 

“I see,” Draco said, his voice hitching a bit to get those words out. Ron didn’t seem to notice. 

“Wicked, let’s go look at it then.” Ron rose from his chair kind of crookedly, sending the remainder of his tea splashing onto the saucer and table below it, as he reached out his dominant hand for Draco to take on his much more graceful departure from his own chair. “There’s a public floo here, if you’d rather not apparate, but I keyed you into the wards already so there is no reason not to travel more quickly if you’re keen.”

“Does your brother know we’re coming?”

“George?”

Draco nodded.

“Ah, I told him I might stop by the shop today, but I didn’t tell him why.”

“I think we better floo to the Leaky and walk then, just to be polite,” Draco suggested gently. He hoped the alpha wouldn’t find him too pushy or presumptuous. It didn’t seem wise to spring his presence on George unannounced, though. 

Ron perked up a bit at the active participation from his omega. He placed a hand on the small of Draco’s back and led him to the fireplace. “Right. This way.” 

Ron stopped in his tracks right before they were about to cross the threshold of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. 

“It might be best for you to walk in first and warn him,” Draco hedged. It was the first thing that either of them had said on a walk that Ron had found companionable and Draco found truly uncomfortable. 

“George won’t mind!” Ron declared, a shade too optimistically in Draco’s opinion. 

He sighed, “It would make me feel much better if you gave him some notice of my arrival in the shop, Ron. It isn’t everyday that he has to come face to face with a Death Eater, I’m sure.”

Ron smiled at him crookedly. “I thought I told you to lay off the Death Eater themed self-deprecation. You were the worst of the lot — in the best way, er, you know what I mean.” 

“Nevertheless,” Draco deadpanned. 

Ron scrubbed the back of his neck harshly and surveyed the other pedestrians in the alley skeptically before nodding his ascent. “Alright, don’t move a muscle though. I’ll be right back.”

Ron disappeared through the vaulted doorway to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes with a parting squeeze to Draco’s shoulder. Draco immediately began panicking because Ron’s flippant order had immobilized every muscle in his body, but there was no way to outwardly show those emotions or call out to his Alpha while he was obligingly not moving a muscle. It was as if every fear he had ever harbored came true in one tragic instant. 

Blessedly, the other witches and wizards walking through the alley took very little notice of the seemingly placid blonde man as they went about their daily errands. That didn’t stop his heart from beating as rapidly as a fairies wings or his mind from spinning millions of worst case scenarios in vivid detail. He was in a completely altered headspace when Ron returned looking a little shaken himself. 

“You may have been onto something there. Maybe we should look into some truly neutral housing, like a cabin in the woods or a cottage by the sea or something cute, it wouldn’t have to be so public as here. This wasn’t right for us at all, now that I really think about it.”

Ron’s rambling miraculously cut through Draco’s panicky fugue, but he had yet to notice that his companion literally had not moved a muscle since he left. 

“George will come around to you, I’m sure of it, but he was a little surprised by my suggestion and told me to stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine, which — probably for the best you waited out here actually — was the nicest thing he said to me just now. Er, Draco? Are you alright?”

Finally noticing that Draco was unresponsive, Ron waved both of his hands frantically in front of his eyes, “Mate? Why aren’t you moving?” Ron started to lift Draco’s limbs and began breathing erratically when he saw them all snap magically back into their previous positions. 

“Were you cursed, oh Godric, I need to get you to Mungo’s, or can you even go to Mungo’s? Is that against the law for, well, I know I said you were a shit one, but you were still a Death Eater and I don’t know if they’re allowed treatment. Merlin’s hairy ballsack, I should have looked this stuff up when I realized my mate was Draco sodding Malfoy. Fuck. Fuck! I’m going to apparate us to Hermione’s flat. Blink once if that’s the right thing to do.” 

Draco remained still. Ron squawked. 

“Oh fuck. You can’t even blink! Whoever has cast this curse is going to get strung up by their short and curlies, I swear to Godric.” 

Ron grabbed Draco roughly around the waist, swished his wand and popped them both out of the alley and into Hermione’s neat and tidy muggle flat in South London. He set Draco by the coat rack and ran around the place screaming for help. If Draco had the ability to use his own musculature, he would’ve reminded the alpha that it was a workday and Hermione was a noted workaholic. As a glorified coat rack himself, he had to wait for Ron to figure that out on his own. Leaving crowded Diagon Alley had at least curbed most of the existential dread about his current predicament, leaving only discomfort to focus on in it’s wake. Not being able to blink was becoming a major issue and his most pressing burden. 

“Hermione! Hermione! Help!”

Ron continued aimlessly running in circles. No Hermione in the kitchen, living room or lavatory left only the bedroom unturned. He became bashful, which was pretty amusing in Draco’s opinion, especially considering he had already been storming around Hermione’s space for a few minutes, and knocked softly on the door. 

“Hermione? Hermione, it’s Ron. I need some help,” Ron whined. He looked a moment away from stomping his feet and upending her clearly prized bookcases when the witch in question popped into existence by the front entrance. Unfortunately for Draco, this was alarmingly close to where he was standing. 

She screamed loudly in Draco’s ear, “What on Earth. Ron Weasley, why is your mate still as a statue?”

“Hermione!” Ron looked like all of the world’s evils had been lifted off his shoulders all at once upon her arrival. “Malfoy’s been cursed, you have to help me.”

She poked Draco squarely in the middle of his left collarbone. “No reflexes at all,” she whispered in a much kinder tone than the one she had taken with Ron. “It’s like he’s been petrified. Were you around a basilisk?”

“No, of course not, I’m not 13, Hermione,” Ron said as he paced back in forth in front of them. “We were in front of the shop and I left him outside for maybe two minutes and some bastard walking by cursed him!”

Hermione looked at her ex-boyfriend fondly. “Did you try finite?”

“Uh, no,” Ron admitted. He hadn’t really thought to try anything at all for himself. 

“Finite Incantatem,” Hermione flicked her wand in Draco’s direction to no avail. “Well, Ron. I don’t think this is a curse. This isn’t stupefy because stupefy allows the victim to blink. And it’s not petrificus totalus because that would have made him fall over as well. An incantation to make someone into a living statue is incredibly complex and dark magic that no one would dare perform in public. So I think we can safely rule that out, too.”

Ron’s face fell flat. “Bollocks, you’re right. Maybe there was a basilisk.”

“Don’t be absurd, Ron, I was only joking about that. I think this is simpler. What did you say to Draco before you left him?”

“I told him to stay put and that I’d be right back,” Ron shouted, voice rising higher at the end in his frustration. 

“What exactly did you say, Ron?”

“I don’t remember! You think this is my fault? I wouldn’t hurt Draco. He’s my mate!” 

“Ron. I’m not saying you did it purposefully, but Draco is your omega. And even if he wasn’t, he’s particularly susceptible to stern vocal commands from alphas. And you have notably loose lips…” She trailed off, hoping for him to come to his own conclusion and fix this himself. 

Ron flopped down into an overstuffed armchair by the bookshelves, dramatically dropped his head into his hands and groaned, “I don’t know what I said.”

Hermione turned her attention away from her highly dramatic friend and back onto Draco. “You can move,” she said, magnanimously. The left corner of his mouth twitched slightly. 

Ron made another pitiful noise, halfway between a whale vocalization and an erumpet shriek, “Is he going to be stuck like this forever?”

Hermione had the gall to laugh at that, a shrill sort of cackle that really rattled Draco’s brain due to their proximity. “No, not forever. Just until you tell him to move again. Was it really ‘stay put’ that you said to him?”

Ron lifted his head from his hands in sudden realization. “I said ‘don’t move a muscle.’ Oh Draco, you can move you muscles, move as much as you want, I’m so sorry.”

Draco took several deep shuddering breaths before he doubled over in a fit of near hysterical giggles. Hermione looked on uncomfortably as Ron rushed to his side. 

“Draco? Draco? Are you ok? Do you need to go to Mungo’s?”

“No!” The suggestion of heading to another public wizarding venue rather quickly sobered Draco up. “No, please, I just want to go home. Or we can stay here, if that’s okay with Grang — Hermione,” he corrected himself, belatedly remembering what she had asked him to call her. 

“Have I accidentally ordered you to do anything else? It wasn’t intentional, if I did.”

Draco wracked his brain. Oddly enough for an alpha, Ron was rather sparse with giving orders. “You told me not to apologize earlier today.”

“Oh, I only meant that you needn’t apologize for being an omega. It’s not a bad thing. But you can always speak freely with me, Draco. I hope you know that.” Ron reached out to run his hand soothingly over Draco’s cheek. 

Draco leaned into the touch briefly and nodded into his palm. Then he straightened himself up to fully address their surprised hostess. “Sorry to impose on you like this, Hermione. Thank you for helping my mate sort out that situation. I’m sure he’ll be more careful with his words in the future.”

Hermione smirked at him, “Careful isn’t really his bag. And you’ve no need to apologize on his account, I myself am sorry I nearly bowled you over on my way in. I got a little worried and appeared hastily when I noticed Ron had breached the wards.”

“Oy,” Ron protested. “I’m careful with him!”

Draco laughed sharply, “Clearly. I felt particularly cared for when I was alone, immobile and defenseless in the middle of the street.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I didn’t do it on purpose, Draco. You were the one who suggested I go in ahead of you to warn George.” 

“Warn George?” Hermione asked.

“I was going to ask him if we could stay at the flat while we get to know one another, but he wasn’t amenable.”

Hermione looked contemplative and understanding. Draco also got where George was coming from. It was pretty remarkable that Ron was taking to this situation so quickly, all things considered. 

“He was well within his rights to shut you down there, but I think that it’s a good idea for you both to stay somewhere secluded for some time while you’re adjusting to the new bond. What do you think, Draco?”

Draco bit his lip. Speaking his mind in front of Ron was one thing, but Granger was an entirely different story. She was an alpha as well and even though she had been nice to him since she found out his secondary sex, she was the only person in the room who had punched him before. It was years ago and he had deserved it, but still. 

“I will do what my alpha thinks is right,” he hedged the question diplomatically. 

“Draco, don’t say that,” Ron’s eyes widened, realizing he had given out another order. “Sorry, say anything you’d like, just know that you can tell me what you’re really feeling. You don’t have to go all politician's son on me.”

Explaining to Ron that it was Granger who incited the diplomacy felt a little pointless so Draco told him that he’d be more open in the future. 

Hermione glanced at the clock in her kitchen. “Ah, I’m late for a meeting with the Secretary of Accidents and Catastrophes. If you need a place to chat longer, I’ll be at work until eight tonight.”

“Hermione, that’s way too late —”

“Some of us are dedicated civil servants, Ronald. Draco, it was lovely to see you again. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I think Luna left a tin of tea cakes that you made actually.” With a wave and two nods, she popped out of sight. 

Ron was on him in an instant, running his hands along his sides and pressing their foreheads together. Draco lifted his hands into his thick red hair.

“Are you really alright?” 

Draco spoke in his best Hermione Granger voice, “Don’t be absurd, Ronald.”

“Berk.”

Draco laughed. “I’ll be fine. It was almost funny once we left the alley.”

Ron smiled at him indulgently and raised his eyebrows, “Since I have you here in such a playful mood…”

“You can’t be seriously be suggesting we mess around in Granger’s flat?”

“I was kind of taking the piss unless you’re into it.” His smile was downright lewd. 

“She’s your ex!”

“You just look so cute right now,” Ron pleaded while dropping a trail of kisses across his nose. 

Draco blushed prettily, “I guess she’d be none the wiser.”

“We just had a very trying experience. What’s a little necking between mates anyway. She could hardly blame us for it.”

Draco was inclined to agree with anything Ron said while he was looking at him like he had personally set the cosmos alight. He leaned in slowly to place a chaste kiss to his alpha’s lips and was immediately overtaken by strong arms pulling him closer, dragging him to the sofa and deepening the kiss deliciously. If this was what seclusion had in store, then maybe he really was willing to do whatever his mate thought was right.


End file.
